


Twenty Minutes Can Change Your Life

by ThatRavenclawBitch



Series: Time Traveling Rumbelle [2]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, F/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-01
Updated: 2016-08-12
Packaged: 2018-02-03 01:35:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 45,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1726373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatRavenclawBitch/pseuds/ThatRavenclawBitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A remix of A Twist in Time. Rumple and Belle make it back to the future, but find out that their actions in the past have far reaching consequences. Meanwhile, the Rumple and Belle of the past try to piece together what happened in the missing week of their lives. Continues directly from Ch. 11 of Twist, so I recommend reading that first.</p><p>This was prompted by thestraggletag and is dedicated to her for her pure plot bunny brilliance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [A Twist in Time](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1647701) by [ThatRavenclawBitch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatRavenclawBitch/pseuds/ThatRavenclawBitch). 



He was kissing her. Belle. He had Belle in his arms and was kissing her. And more importantly, she was kissing him back. Rumplestiltskin would have pinched himself if he weren’t otherwise more pleasantly engaged. 

The sound of a door slamming cut through the haze he found himself in and he pulled back with effort.

“Are you alright?” he asked, smoothing her curls back from her face.

Belle was slumped against him, a dreamy smile on her lips.

“Never better,” she replied.

It was only then that Rumple realized the state they were in. Their future selves seemed to have abandoned the room.  _Serves them right_ , he thought derisively. It was about time they had a taste of their own medicine. So he and Belle were alone. Alone in an empty bedroom. And he was stripped down to nothing but his trousers while Belle was only clad in a thin nightdress.

He could feel the heat of her through the fabric of her gown, feel her soft little curves pressed up against his naked chest. If he didn’t get out of here, and soon, he would ruin her.

Belle chose that moment to reach up and kiss him again, completely destroying his resolve. He turned them around, pressing her against the wall and trailing kisses down the column of her throat. Belle let out a shuddering moan that went straight to his groin. As his lips made their way up and down her neck, he allowed his hands to roam, falling from her waist to her hips and sliding back up to cup her pert little breasts.

Belle’s head fell back against the wall as she let out another one of those delicious moans.

“Rumple,” she gasped.

He broke away from her then, staring down at the goddess before him. Her pupils were blown wide with lust, her pink lips parted as she gasped for breath. It didn’t escape his notice that he’d barged into this room an hour ago to save his Belle from this very fate, corruption at his hands.

He let his offending hands drop from her chest, stepping away from her.

“I’m sorry, Belle,” he ground out. 

“For what?” she asked, genuinely confused.

“I shouldn’t be taking advantage of you like this,” he replied. “Just because we know we’re together in the future, doesn’t mean I expect anything from you now.”

“What are you saying?” she gasped.

“I should go.” He turned to exit the room, but Belle grabbed hold of his wrist before he could get more than one step away.

“You love me,” she said simply, and he wasn’t sure if it was a question or a statement.

“Yes,” he rasped out.

“I love you, too. And because the integrity of our entire future depends on it, we’re soon going to forget that fact.” 

“Yes,” he said again, turning to look at her.

“If we’re going to forget that we’re in love, that we’re  _true love_ , I want to enjoy it right now.”

Now it was his turn for confusion. “What are you saying?” he asked.

Belle bit her lip, looking up at him coyly through her lashes.

“I’m saying stop being so noble and make love to me, Rumplestiltskin.”

He couldn’t have stopped himself if he wanted to, and he definitely didn’t want to. As soon as the words had left her mouth he was kissing her again, nibbling on her bottom lip until she opened her mouth to him and then stroking his tongue against hers, finding every little place that could make her shudder and moan. He wouldn’t be able to remember them next time he had the honor of kissing her, but by God he was going to find them now.

Belle gripped his shoulders, kissing him back eagerly. Her lack of experience was more than made up for by her enthusiasm. She ran her hands down his back until she reached the waistband of his trousers. A second later she had given him a sharp slap against his backside.

Rumple pulled back, quirking an eyebrow at her.

“I’m sorry,” she giggled, her cheeks blushing prettily. “But I’ve wanted to do that for ages. You have a fantastic bum.”

Rumplestiltskin couldn’t contain the laugh that bubbled up inside of him. Not his typical sneering giggle, but a genuine laugh, deep and happy. It sounded foreign to his own ears.

“By all means, darling, I’d never want to deprive you of something you enjoy.”

Belle bit her lip before snaking her hands down to his backside again, this time giving him a firm squeeze.

Rumple grabbed her around the waist at that, carrying her the few steps to the four-poster bed and laying her down against the pillows. He stretched out beside her, leaning down to kiss her again. He couldn’t seem to stop. He thought he could kiss Belle every day for a lifetime and never grow tired of it.

Belle was arching against him, her breasts pushing against his chest tantalizingly. His hand fell to the tiny row of buttons at the neck of her nightgown and he began undoing them one by one. Belle held her breath as she watched him pluck each button from its hole, baring more of her creamy white skin with each pull.

Finally he reached the last button, halfway down her chest. He glanced up at Belle, her eyes wide as she met his. At the imperceptible nod of her head he pushed the two halves of her gown apart, freeing her to his gaze. 

“So beautiful,” he whispered. Belle’s blush spread from her cheeks down her neck and across her chest, but her smile was radiant.

Without breaking eye contact Rumple bent his head and took one flushed pink peak into his mouth.

“Gods,” Belle gasped, falling back against the pillows, hands gripping his hair.

He laved her nipple with his tongue, dragging his teeth over the hardened peak as his hand came up to mimic his mouth at her other breast. Belle was writhing beneath him, her hands in his hair pulling at it almost painfully. But he wouldn’t stop for the world. 

He licked and sucked at her breasts for what felt like an eternity, living out every fantasy he’d ever had of his sweet little maid with her cleavage on display, slowly driving him insane. It was only when Belle was shunting her hips up against him, gasping out incoherently that he finally relented.

“Please –” she gasped.

“What do you want, darling?”

“I – I don’t really know,” she replied. “I just  _need_  something. 

Rumplestiltskin grinned, his hand going to the hem of her nightgown. He pushed it slowly up her legs, fingers trailing up her calves to rest behind her knee, tickling the soft flesh there. When Belle began to squirm he continued pushing the gown up over her thighs, stroking the skin of her inner thigh softly.

Belle’s hips bucked up involuntarily as he finally made his way to her core. She wasn’t wearing any drawers, completely bare beneath her thin nightdress. Rumplestiltskin parted her folds with one finger, moaning at how wet she was. She wanted him, honestly and truly. Her body couldn’t fake this reaction. 

Belle gasped at the intrusion of his finger.

“Yes,” she sighed. “Oh gods, yes.”

Emboldened, Rumple inserted one finger inside her, stroking her gently as his thumb came up to rub at the little bundle of nerves nestled under her curls. Belle cried out, her hips moving against his hand. He added another finger, crooking his fingers within her until she was shuddering, crying out her voice nearly hoarse with exertion. Her inner walls tightened around his fingers and he moaned at the feeling, imagining the same on his cock. He coaxed her down from her high, raining kisses down on her face and neck, telling her how beautiful she was, how perfect. He couldn’t have imagined ever getting to see Belle like this, but she was more beautiful than his imagination ever could have come up with.

“Please –” Belle gasped again. “Need you. Want you.” 

Rumple’s eyes nearly rolled back in his head at that. The thought of being inside Belle, the thought that she wanted him that way, was almost enough to have him coming in his pants. He needed to pace himself if he didn’t want to disappoint her.

“All in good time, love,” he told her, pushing her hair back from her face, his mouth finding hers once again.

Belle’s kiss was sloppy this time, her body exhausted from her orgasm. It was perfect. 

Rumple grabbed the hem of her gown, now rucked up around her hips, and in one swift movement pulled it over her head, leaving her completely bare before him. Her pale skin seemed to glow in the candlelight of the room, some ethereal goddess sent to save him. So beautiful, and so good, she could be his salvation if he only let her.

He kissed her again, unwilling to stop for even a moment. He trailed his kisses down her neck, across her collarbone, nipping at the skin between her breasts and down across her stomach before finally burying his head between her thighs.

Belle cried out, her upper body coming up off the bed in surprise. If he was going to have to forget this entire encounter anyway, he was going to make it something worth forgetting. He dragged his tongue across her clit, sucking on the tiny nub as his fingers came up to stroke her once again.

Belle was gripping the bedclothes, her face a mask of ecstasy as she cried out. Her sweetness burst across his tongue as she climaxed, the taste of her better than he could have ever imagined, something fragrant and wild like a perfect spring day. So alive and fresh and beautiful.  

Belle was gasping and shaking as she came down from her second high, her thighs spasming around him. 

“Good?” he asked her.

“Incredible,” she gasped. “Never knew it could feel like that.”

Rumple laughed, another real full body laugh, as he crawled back up her body, settling himself between her thighs.

“More,” Belle groaned, her hands dropping to the laces on his trousers, her hands brushing against the hard length of him straining against the leather.  

Rumple didn’t need to be told twice, quickly helping her unlace him, pulling the breeches down and shucking them off across the room. 

Belle was staring at his newly revealed manhood, eyes wide at the sight.

“I’ve never seen one before,” she said, reaching out to stroke him tentatively, her small hand not quite closing around his girth. Rumple grit his teeth at the sensation, grabbing her hand in his.

“Please, Belle,” he groaned. “It’s your first time, I need to be in control. If you do that, I’ll lose control.”

“What’s so wrong with losing control?” she asked, biting her lip deliciously.

“I need to be gentle with you, sweetheart.”

“I need you, Rumple,” she groaned, reaching out to touch him again. Rumple grabbed her hands and pinned them above her on the bed, settling himself back over her. He couldn’t deny Belle anything, especially this.

“Are you sure, love?” he asked her, giving her one last chance to preserve her virtue. 

“I’m sure,” she said, stroking his face gently. “I love you.”

He could only nod at that. “Let me know if you want to stop,” he demanded. “Don’t let me hurt you.”

Belle nodded as he lined himself up with her and slowly eased the tip of him inside, giving her time to adjust to him. She was so tight, so wet his eyes rolled back in his head at the feel of her. She spread her legs wider, wrapping her legs around his waist and pulling him deeper. 

“Are you sure,” he asked through gritted teeth.

“Yes!” Belle cried exasperatedly, tightening her legs around him and pulling him flush against her.

Belle let out a sharp hiss at the intrusion of his body and he pulled back to see her face. 

“Are you alright, darling?” he asked, panicked. His hands dropped to her hips, trying to massage the tension from her muscles.

Belle nodded once more. “Pain’s already gone,” she assured him. “Take me, Rumple.” 

He rocked against her tentatively, groaning at the sweet friction of her body surrounding him. Belle’s hips came up to meet his, moving together in an instinctual rhythm.

She felt so damn amazing he was sure to embarrass himself. He buried his head against her neck, nipping at the flesh where her neck and shoulder met, trying to stave off the climax that threatened to consume him.

He’d wanted her for so long, longer than he’d even allowed himself to realize. And here she was his perfect, beautiful girl, in his arms. He never wanted the moment to end, but knew it would all too soon. 

He snaked a hand down between them, gently rubbing at her right above the place where their bodies were joined. Belle sighed out in pleasure, her hands gripping onto his back tightly.

All too soon she was breaking apart around him, her inner muscles fluttering and tightening around his cock. She cried out, breathless and Rumple was helpless but to come along with her, swept away in a tide of pleasure. His thrusts grew more and more erratic as he came hard within her, some masculine part of him crowing at the thought of filling her with his seed. Then he slumped against her boneless and completely spent.

They lay there for a moment, their bodies cooling in the night air of the bedroom. He felt himself softening and slipping from her body, and he rolled to her side, cradling her in his arms.

In his euphoric post orgasmic state, it took him a moment to realize there was something wet against his chest, Belle’s shoulders shaking silently. He pulled back alarmed. She was crying! 

“Belle, darling, what’s wrong?” he asked frantically. “Did I hurt you?”

His heart seized at the idea he had caused her any pain.

Belle shook her head, gripping on to him tightly and burying her head against his chest.

“I don’t want to forget this,” she cried. “It was so perfect and lovely and we’ll just forget it. It’ll be like it never happened.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he gasped, hugging her tightly as relief swept through him. “You’ve seen the future. Regardless of what happens, we’ll find each other again.”

“I know,” Belle said, wiping at the tears in her eyes. “But the idea of going back to how things were between us, to being so distant and careful around each other, it breaks my heart, Rumple.”

How easy would it be to just not take the potion? To be with Belle, sod the consequences. They could start their future together right now, avoid the heartache and agony the future Rumplestiltskin had implied. 

But then he might never find his son. As the future played out now, he would reunite with his son, find his precious Baelfire and finally have the chance to apologize, to beg for forgiveness. He couldn’t sacrifice that future, regardless of his love for the woman in his arms.

“We have to, love,” he said, kissing the top of her head gently. “We have to preserve our future. Just know that I truly do love you.”

“I love you too, Rumple,” she replied, resting her head against his chest once more. “I’m glad I got to say it, even if we won’t remember.”

He kissed her again then, hoping it wouldn’t be the last time, her lips warm and soft beneath his own. All too soon she was pulling away from him with a smile. 

“At least now I know why our future selves can’t keep their hands off each other,” she giggled. “We’re amazing at that.”

Rumplestiltskin laughed for what felt like the twentieth time that night.

“Indeed we are, sweetheart,” he agreed, kissing her nose. “Indeed we are.

* * *

_Eight Weeks Later_ ….

Belle had been Rumplestiltskin’s maid for a full eight months and she hadn’t been sick one day in that time. Not even a passing cold, so much as a sniffle or a slight fever, had plagued her since she’d been in residence at the Dark Castle. She’d often wondered if the protections placed on his castle to keep out threats extended to sickness as well. She’d always been in good health, but she’d been especially hearty since moving in with Rumple.

But now Belle found herself slumped over the sink in the kitchen throwing her guts up. She racked her brain for what she could have eaten that would cause this, but nothing came to mind. She rinsed her mouth out at the tap and cleaned up the remnants of her sickness before setting to work on Rumple’s tea. She was already running late and was surprised he hadn’t come down to find her.

She arrived in the great hall a few minutes later with the tea tray, all but shaking from the effort. Her skin felt cold and clammy and she could barely contain the nausea roiling in her stomach.

“What’s wrong with you, dearie? You look awful!” Rumple exclaimed as she placed the tray down on the long dining room table.

“Just feeling a little under the weather,” Belle replied, trying not to let his assessment of her appearance sting too badly.

Rumplestiltskin narrowed his eyes at her. “You shouldn’t be sick,” he said flatly. “Can’t have the help shirking their duties after all.”

He stalked toward her, placing one scaled hand against her forehead. He frowned, obviously not liking what he was seeing.

At that moment, Belle was overcome with another bout of nausea. She rushed to the side, emptying the contents of her stomach into a golden urn next to the fireplace. 

“I’m sorry,” she said, standing up miserably. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Never mind the urn,” Rumple replied, worry etched on his face. “This isn’t right.”

He walked toward her again, the slight shimmer of magic encompassing his hands.

“May I?” he asked, raising his hands up to her.

Belle nodded and he ran his hands over her, not quite touching her. He started at the top of her head, dragging his hands downward over her shoulders and finally settling over her stomach. His eyes grew wide as he looked up to her face and backed away with a flourish.

“What is it?” Belle asked, alarmed at the shock evident on his face. “What’s wrong with me?”

“It appears you’ve got a little bun in your oven, dearie,” Rumplestiltskin sneered. “Just what have you been up to?”

Belle felt as if the air had been sucked from the room. Rumple must be mistaken. That couldn’t be the cause of her illness.

“That’s – that’s impossible!” Belle cried. “I can’t be pregnant, I’m a – I’m a virgin.”

Rumplestiltskin eyed her warily. “Apparently not, my dear,” he said coldly. “Who’s the father, I wonder? Have you been  _entertaining_  my guests?”

Belle felt like she’d been kicked in the stomach. How could she convince him she was telling the truth? Convince him that there was no man she would want in her bed, none but the one standing before her right now.

“You must be wrong, your magic lied,” she cried.

“Magic doesn’t lie, dearie,” Rumple said harshly. “Women do.” 

Now he was making her angry.

“When would I have had the chance, Rumplestiltskin? I never leave this castle, I’m with you all the time. Even when you do have a guest you’ve never left me alone with them. When would I have had a chance to get with child?” 

She was yelling now, her face reddening with the effort. How could he be so obtuse? How could he not see that she’d had neither the time nor inclination to find herself in such a state?

“In any case, I think I would remember… ” 

She trailed off, the answer striking her like a ton of bricks.  _Remember_. 

“Do you remember about two months ago when we both woke up in your laboratory with no recollection of the previous week?” she asked, suddenly scared.

“Yes,” Rumplestiltskin agreed. “We’d taken a memory potion. Obviously something happened we both wanted to forget –” He stopped suddenly, eyes widening at her. “You’re not suggesting  _we_ …”

Belle shrugged, “There’s no other explanation. Maybe something happened and we decided it was better to forget and go back to how things were.”

Rumplestiltskin just shook his head. “I can understand why you would want to forget that dearie, but I wouldn’t.”

He looked up at her suddenly as though surprised he’d said the words out loud.

“Why wouldn’t you want to forget?” Belle prompted him.

He looked uncomfortable for a minute, twitching his fingers together in that nervous habit of his.

“Well, you’re a beautiful woman, dearie,” he said as though it should be obvious. “And despite outward appearances I am just a man.”

“And I’m just a woman,” she countered. “I wouldn’t want to forget that either.”

“Bedding a monster?” Rumple scoffed.

“Bedding a man I care for deeply,” Belle replied. “There must have been more to it.” 

Rumplestiltskin was staring at her as though she’d just sprouted an extra head. Then suddenly he was standing directly in front of her, moving so quickly he must have used magic. He plucked a hair from his head before reaching up to pluck one from Belle’s as well.

“Ouch!” she cried. “What are you doing?”

Rumple didn’t answer her, just wound the two pieces of hair together, wrapping them around his index finger. They glowed purple for a moment with the tingle of magic before he trailed his finger across her flat abdomen. The hairs glowed purple again, shining brightly before fading away to nothing.

Rumple looked up at her, his face a mask of shock and confusion.

“It’s mine,” he gasped.

* * *

The portal deposited them back in Zelena’s barn. It was still nighttime and Belle wondered if any time had actually passed since they made their excursion into the past. 

“We’re back,” Belle grinned at her fiancé. “I wonder if we missed our wedding?” 

Rumplestiltskin grabbed her about the waist, pulling her to him and kissing her gently. “I’ve never been so glad to see Storybrooke in my life,” he smiled. “I believe our wedding is still an hour away. We should make it just in time.”

Belle grabbed Rumple’s hand pulling him from the barn.

“I want to go down to Granny’s and see everyone,” she said. “I’ve missed them.” 

“We have been stuck with nothing but our own company for a week,” Rumple joked. “I’ll be right there. I just want to make sure we didn’t accidentally bring anything back to the future with us.”

“Don’t take too long,” Belle scolded. “I don’t want to be left at the altar.”

When Belle arrived at Granny’s, the party for the new prince was still in full swing, most of Storybrooke in attendance.

“Oh thank God you’re back!” Ruby cried, rushing over to Belle through the crowd before she’d even made it through the door. “It’s already past her bedtime. I thought she’d have to sleep here tonight.” 

“Who?” she asked, confused.

“Mommy!” Belle turned to see a little girl, around four years old with long chestnut curls and familiar brown eyes, rushing toward her. The child threw herself in Belle’s arms and she instinctively picked her up, cradling her close.

“We were wondering where you guys disappeared to,” Ruby continued. “Rowan’s been missing you like crazy.”

Before Belle could even begin to ask who the child was, the bell chimed behind her as Rumplestiltskin entered the diner. 

“Papa!” the little girl said, reaching for Rumple as he came closer.

Rumple accepted the child from Belle, but his face looked as confused as she was sure hers did. 

“Rumple,” she whispered. “What the hell did we do?”  

“Twenty minutes,” Rumple gimaced, though his face lit up when the little girl threw her arms around his neck, snuggling up against him. “I gave them twenty damn minutes.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tinuviel-undomiel prompted: Rumple tells Belle he’s going to get her a potion, she assumes he means to get rid of the pregnancy so she sets him straight, that she is having his baby and he can go the hell if he doesn’t want it. Then he explains the potion is to cure her morning sickness, nothing more.

Rumplestiltskin hadn’t moved since the realization that the baby was his. His hand was still splayed across Belle’s flat belly, belying the new life growing inside her. She thought he might be catatonic. 

“Rumple?” she asked. In truth his behavior was scaring her. “Say something.” 

He stared at her for moment in horror before collapsing to his knees.

“I’m so sorry,” he gasped raggedly. “I don’t know what happened, but I’m sorry I did this to you.”

Belle rolled her eyes. She was pregnant, and they were going to have to deal with this. The last thing she needed was Rumplestiltskin curling into a ball of self-loathing for the next seven months while she carried this baby to term. 

“You never would have done anything to me that I didn’t want,” she said, gripping his chin and forcing him to look up at her. “Neither of us remember the particulars, but I know that much is true. You would never hurt me.”

Rumple shook his head. “This isn’t right. You shouldn’t be forced to bear my child. That wasn’t part of our deal.”

“No,” Belle agreed. “But neither was providing your maid with her own personal library. I think we’ve fudged a bit on the particulars of our deal.”

Rumple just continued staring at her as if she were a madwoman.

Belle was shocked, to say the least, to find herself pregnant with her master’s child. Most of all because she couldn’t even remember the conception of the child in the first place. Part of her was terrified. She’d never given much thought to being a mother, knowing it would be expected of her when she married Gaston. But it had always been a far off nebulous thing. When Rumplestiltskin had come for her, she had assumed that part of her life was closed off. It had almost been a relief. Her own mother had died in childbirth and she had often feared the same fate. But Rumplestitlskin was the most powerful sorcerer in all the realms. Surely he could keep her and their child safe. She had nothing to worry about on that front now.

But there was another niggling part of her mind that was put out for reasons that had nothing to do with fear of impending motherhood. She was faced with the unthinkable. She had _been_ with Rumplestiltskin, her cheeks colored at the thought. She had had him utterly and completely, and she couldn’t remember a thing. She’d known for a while now that she desired him, finding his strange features and neat form enticing rather than off putting. To know that she’d had the object of her desire in her bed and not being able to relive the memory was the most frustrating thing of all. 

Rumplestiltskin still looked vaguely sick, like hope and horror were warring inside his body for dominance.

“You don’t have to go through all this,” Rumple said grimly, standing and waving his hand at her. “I’ll get you a potion to clear it up.”

Belle stumbled back at that. To think that he could speak so cavalierly of ending her pregnancy as if it were nothing more than a cold!

“Like hell you will!” she cried. “You don’t get to make decisions about my body, Rumplestiltskin!”

His eyes widened in alarm as he stood frozen to the spot, watching her nervously. 

“This baby might be yours, but it’s mine too. And I’m not getting rid of it. If you don’t want it, that’s fine, but I’m keeping my child and there’s not a damn thing you can say about it. The day we met I told you that no one decides my fate but me, and that includes you.”

She ended her tirade, breathless and shaking. She wasn’t sure she had realized how much this pregnancy meant to her until he had offered to take it away. But how could she ever get rid of the tangible proof of their connection, that some part of him had loved her even if it was just for a night.

“I – I didn’t mean…” Rumple stuttered. “I only meant to lessen your discomfort. A potion for the morning sickness.”

He looked so abashed, so cowed by her that Belle wasn’t sure what to do.

“Morning sickness?” she asked.

“The nausea, dear,” he explained. “It’s a common symptom of pregnancy.” 

In her panic over the pregnancy followed by her fury at the idea of terminating it, she had completely forgotten about her initial illness that had prompted all of this in the first place. Belle blushed, looking down at her feet and feeling suddenly awful.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have assumed –” 

“I’m not a monster, darling,” he interrupted. Belle let the new term of endearment go without drawing attention to it. “Well, not in that way. I would never force you to – I’ll help you through this.”

Belle nodded, still staring at her feet, too embarrassed to meet his eye. Of course he would never force her to do anything against her will. She was a fool for even contemplating it.

“I’ll go get to work on that potion,” he said quietly, rubbing his thumb and forefinger together nervously. “You should stay off your feet. No more cleaning for now, I think.”

He turned on his heel and disappeared from the room. Belle sat down heavily at the large dining room table, her head spinning. She had so much to think about, but all she could focus on was the sad look on his face as she’d berated him. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle has an unusual pregnancy craving.

It had been two months since they’d come to the startling realization that Belle was carrying Rumple’s child, and things had been increasingly awkward between them ever since.

Well, awkward wasn’t quite the right word. But there was a tension there that hadn’t been there before, like they were suddenly very aware of every minimal contact that happened between them. Belle never realized how prone she was to touching him, a brush against his shoulder when she passed by the spinning wheel, or casually grabbing his hand when he went into one of his showy flourishes as they talked.

Now every touch that happened between them called to mind forgotten intimacies, the proof of which was Belle’s ever-expanding belly. If only they could remember! Belle couldn’t imagine that knowing exactly what had led to this state could be any worse than the forgetting. If they remembered, perhaps they’d be past this initial awkwardness. Belle didn’t pretend to know much about what went on between a man and a woman behind closed doors, but she imagined it would be hard for Rumple to flinch away from her touch after being cradled in her body.

Belle was barely showing, a slight curve to her usually flat stomach the only indication that she was pregnant at all. But she felt pregnant. Every day her body seemed less and less her own, like she was sharing it with some alien entity.

Despite the unusual circumstances between them, Rumple had proved to be an extremely attentive expectant father. The food cravings had started up early on, and Rumple, bless him, had been only too happy to scour the realms to find whatever struck her fancy. One night, she’d woken in the wee hours with an insatiable craving for pineapple, a delicacy she’d only enjoyed once in her entire life when a visitor from the East had brought them to her father’s castle. Rumple had disappeared immediately, arriving back an hour later with the fruit.

It was times like that Belle could almost pretend this was a normal pregnancy – that the father of her child loved her and was happy to be sharing this magical time with her. But then she’d catch sight of Rumple’s strained face, his lips settled in a grim line and the creases around his eyes a little too tight. He wasn’t happy, and it was making Belle miserable, no matter how many exotic fruits he brought her or how he waited on her hand and foot.  

But it wasn’t food cravings that had Belle tossing and turning in her bed one hot summer night, one hand pressed against her stomach willing her body to cooperate with her.  

She squeezed her eyes shut, pressing her head back against the pillows trying to find sleep. Gods knew she was exhausted enough these days, even when she had a decent night’s sleep.

But sleep evaded her, despite the late hour. She felt hot all over, a slight prickle under her skin and a heavy feeling in her lower belly that she thought had nothing to do with the baby. She felt irritable, and overly sensitive, like her body was a live wire sparking at every turn.

On impulse, she snaked a hand down between her legs, applying pressure to where she felt most sensitive.

“Oh!” she let out a breathy moan at the contact. She’d explored her body before, under cover of darkness when she was a girl in her father’s castle. She’d always been too afraid, mindful of her precious maidenhead, to really be bold in her exploration. But now she was expecting a child, that ship had sailed.

She rubbed her hand against herself, through the fabric of her nightgown letting out a shocked sound at the tingling feeling that radiated from her core.

Relieved at the realization of what exactly she was craving, Belle grew bolder still, hiking her nightgown up over her hips and rubbing her fingers against herself. She kept at it for a few minutes, but it was just driving her more insane, no release forthcoming. With a sigh she drew her hand away, collapsing back against the pillows disheartened. It appeared whatever her body was craving, she was ill equipped to handle it.

She lay there for a moment, willing her breathing to slow down and relax into sleep. When it didn’t happen, she threw the covers off herself. She had a feeling this was an itch that required a particular scratch.  

Pulling a shawl on over her nightdress she slipped out into the hallway, making her way to Rumplestiltskin’s tower room. He was willing to satisfy all her other cravings, she only hoped he’d be amenable to this one.

* * *

Rumplestiltskin found himself at his wheel in the dead of night. It was a common occurrence these days. Sleep had always evaded him, several lifetimes worth of regret hardly a boon for a restful night. But ever since his little maid had turned up pregnant, and with his child, he’d barely slept a wink.

He’d ruined her, utterly and completely, crossing a line he didn’t even know he’d established. Until the day his makeshift magical paternity test had revealed the truth, he’d never given thought to defiling a virgin. Well, that wasn’t true. He’d given it plenty of thought ever since Belle took up residence in his castle. But until now he’d been able to restrain himself, his lewd thoughts kept in the back of his mind where they belonged.

He still had no idea how this had all come to be. He’d long admired her beauty and courage, found himself watching her as she flitted about his castle like a bright ray of sunshine invading his dusty life. But he’d never even entertained the idea of acting on his baser urges. He couldn’t imagine what might have changed. But he hoped, for Belle’s sake, that they never remembered. It was traumatizing enough for the poor girl to carry a monster’s child. At least she had no memory of the conception.

Despite himself, a small part of him reveled in the idea of Belle carrying his child. He’d be a papa again! For the first time in centuries, he’d have a child to protect and love as only a father could. He was also male enough to appreciate the changes pregnancy had wrought on Belle’s body. Her breasts were fuller, her stomach plumping with his seed. She’d never been more beautiful to him, more enticing.

And so he’d distanced himself from her as best he could. He was still available at her beck and call to soothe any ache, retrieve any food, do anything he could to lessen her suffering. But he tried to keep a respectable distance between them at all times, allowing his magic to massage her tired muscles rather than his hands. He could barely contain himself when their fingers brushed across the tea service. He’d likely suffer a stroke if he had the chance to rub his hands all over her body.

So yes, to his utter mortification, some part of him was enjoying this pregnancy. But the much larger part of him was horrified. In all honesty, he’d been prepared to let Belle go. He’d made peace with the fact that he had feelings for his little maid. He knew she could never feel similarly, and so he’d made a decision. He would send her back to her father, excuse her from their deal for good. She could go back to her family, marry a knight or a prince, someone worthy of her. She would have a good life, a happy life. And he would find solace in the knowledge that he’d done right by her, done the selfless thing for once in his miserable life.

Now that pretty fantasy was well and truly fucked. She might have been welcomed back by her people as a hero if she’d arrived home in tact. Her father could have found a good match for her. But now she was carrying his bastard, the spawn of the Dark One. She’d never be accepted back into the fold now. He’d destroyed her every chance for happiness.

And that was what tempered every smile he gave her, strained the sparse words exchanged between them. He loved her, and he had ruined her just as he ruined everything he cared for. She was well and truly bound to him. Forever.

His maudlin thoughts were interrupted by a sharp knock on the door of his tower room.

He spun around from his spinning wheel, standing just as the door opened and Belle peeked her head in.

“Yes?” he asked her, standing awkwardly in the middle of his laboratory.

“I’m sorry to bother you so late,” Belle said as she pushed the door open further, walking into the room to stand in front of him. “But I’ve found myself quite unable to sleep.”

She did look flushed, the skin of her cheeks even pinker than usual spreading down tantalizingly across her chest exposed by her flimsy nightgown. That line of thought was dangerous.

“What is it?” he asked, hands flitting about his sides uselessly. “Is there something wrong with the baby?”

“No,” Belle answered, staring at him oddly.

“Do you have another craving, my dear?” he prompted. “Can I fetch you anything?”

“No,” Belle said again. “I mean there’s nothing you can fetch me, though I do have a craving of a sort.”

“Anything, darling,” he insisted. “Name it and it’s yours.”

Belle bit her lip in a way that went straight to his groin. Rumplestiltskin crossed his hands in front of himself, mortified at his body’s reaction to her discomfort.

She mumbled something under her breath then, staring down at her bare feet.

“What was that, dear?”

“You,” she all but whispered.

Rumple cocked an eyebrow, confused. “Yes, what would you have me do?” he asked again, eager to run off on some errand and be out of her enticing presence. The shawl around her shoulders was doing little to mask the thin white fabric of her nightgown, her pale skin clearly visible beneath the cloth.

“No, you don’t understand,” she said miserably. “You. You’re the craving.”

If it were possible, her cheeks flushed even redder, her face starting to resemble a strawberry.

Rumplestiltskin just stood there sure he’d misunderstood something, his mouth gaping open like a fish out of water.

“Excuse me?” he croaked.

“I’m _aching_ ,” she said nervously. “I wouldn’t ask, but I’m miserable. I feel like I’m crawling out of my own skin.”

Rumple could feel his eyes widening, his breath coming out in stuttering gasps. Was she actually asking for what he thought she was asking for?

“Have you tried…soothing the ache on your own?” he asked awkwardly, hardly daring to believe he was having this conversation with Belle of all people.

“Don’t you think I tried that?” she exclaimed, exasperatedly. “That was the first thing I did. It didn’t work and I’m desperate here, Rumple!”

She’d tried that already. Well that was just great, now he had that mental image to contend with, Belle with her hands buried between her thighs gasping out in pleasure. His trousers were becoming unbearably tight.

And oh gods did he want to believe her, that she wanted him, that she needed him to find her release. But she didn’t, not truly. It was the pregnancy wreaking havoc on her body, nothing more.

“You don’t want me, sweetheart,” he said, backing away and placing his wheel between them. “It’s the hormones. Your body is going through…changes in preparation for the baby, nothing more.”

“Do you think I don’t know my own mind?” Belle snapped at him. This wasn’t going well.

“Of course not, dear,” he tried to placate her. “I just don’t want you to do something we’ll regret come morning.”

Belle actually rolled her eyes at him. "The only thing I'm going to regret is not getting any sleep tonight because you refuse to do something you've obviously already done!"

"Something you don't remember," he retorted. "You're an innocent, Belle."

"No I'm not!" she yelled back, gesticulating at her stomach.

Rumplestiltskin sighed, dropping his head down against the warm wood of his wheel. If someone had told him two months ago that he'd be arguing with his maid over whether or not he should fuck her, he'd have turned that person into a snail and stepped on them.

"Please," she whispered, her voice coming from right next to him. Rumple jumped back at her sudden closeness. "I need _something_."

And that was the root of the problem. She needed _something_ , not him, never him. She needed release to soothe her own aching body. She didn't want him, and to pretend she did would be to take advantage of Belle in the worst possible way. But maybe he could brew her a potion...

Before he could even finish that thought Belle had taken his hand from where it gripped the wood of his wheel and placed it softly against her chest, cupping one of her full breasts. Rumple let out a sound like a wounded animal before he flinched away, pulling his hand back as though her flesh had burned him and almost stumbling over his own feet in the process. He backed away from her, putting as much distance between them as possible until his back came in contact with one of his work tables, halting his progress.

Belle stared at him for a long moment, her bottom lip quivering.

“Oh gods, I’m such an idiot!” she whispered harshly, her face suddenly horrified.

“What?” he asked frantically. “No, of course you’re not.”

“You said I was beautiful once,” she continued. “But that was months ago. I’m a cow now. How could you ever want me like this.”

Rumple stared at her in horror. How on earth had she come to that ridiculous conclusion?

"And now I'm forcing myself on you when you've been so good to me," she finished feebly.

"Sweetheart, I --" 

“Do you think I’m ugly?” she interrupted tearfully. And if that wasn’t the most absurd question he’d ever been asked he’d don one of Regina's gowns and start calling himself the Evil Queen.

Rumplestiltskin felt as though something was breaking inside him. Belle was the most gorgeous creature he'd ever seen, he couldn't have her thinking he didn't desire her, no matter how much easier that might make things. Before he could even consider what he was going to say, the words came pouring out of him.

“Are you bloody insane?” he cried. “I can’t be in your presence for more than five minutes at a time because of what you do to me. Why do you think I’m so eager to run errands for you? Not that I wouldn’t be your servant in all ways anyway, but the very sight of you drives me mad. You’ve always been lovely, but you grow in beauty every day. The fact that I did that to you, that my child is growing inside of you, is the single most maddeningly erotic thing I’ve ever been faced with!” 

Belle looked up at him, her teary eyes wide. 

"You -- you do want me?" she asked in a small voice, as if she could hardly believe his words.

"Of course I want you!" he replied miserably. "How could I not want you? I want you more than I've ever wanted anything in all my three hundred years. And that's why you must leave, immediately, before we do something we'll regret."

Belle was shaking her head, a small smile playing on her lips. "I want you too, Rumple, don't you see?"

Rumplestiltskin let out a ragged sob, her words so precious to him and so cutting in their dishonesty. Not that he thought Belle was lying. No, she was just mistaken, the hormones raging in her body telling her she wanted something neither her heart nor mind would be able to stomach come morning.

He held his hands up, warding her off and trying to put even more distance between them. If he wasn't careful, his pregnant maid was going to drive him right out of his castle.

"Rumplestiltskin, I --"

"No," he interrupted her. "Please. Don't say anything you wouldn't say if you weren't carrying my child."

Belle looked suddenly angry again. "I'm pregnant, Rumplestiltskin, not brain damaged!"

That brought him up short, his hands dropping to his sides like stones.

"I want you," she continued. "Not just anyone, _you_! Even if I weren't pregnant I'd want you, though perhaps I'd be less forceful about it. I've felt this way for months. I'm heartbroken that I had you and can't remember. For gods sake, if you want me and I want you, why have we been dancing around each other for months, making ourselves miserable?" 

"You've been miserable?" he asked, his heart plummeting. He'd been running himself ragged these past months trying to ensure Belle had everything her heart could ever desire. It appeared he'd failed her despite his best efforts.

"How could I be anything but when you seemed so sad?" she replied, walking toward him once more. This time, he restrained himself from running away. "You've seemed so miserable at the prospect of this child. I know you put on a brave face for me, but I can see you're not happy about this." 

"Oh, sweetheart," he breathed, cupping her cheek with his scaled hand. "I am ecstatic about this child. I've been miserable on your behalf. You're bound to me now in ways you can't fully fathom."

Belle's lips quirked up in the beginnings of a smile. "I was always bound to you. I promised you forever, remember?"

Of course he remembered. That brave girl in a golden ball gown, offering herself up to a demon to save her kingdom. He'd never been more intrigued by anyone in his long life. But even then he hadn't meant forever. At the time, he'd assumed he'd grow tired of the girl living in his castle and send her on her way. Now he knew the opposite was true. He would have sent her home because he cared too much. 

He couldn't tell her that. Even if her hormone addled body craved his, she could never truly care for him in return. And to let her know how close she'd been to freedom now would just be cruel. She would never see her father again. She would spend her days the ruined mistress of darkness. 

"Aye," he half-heartedly agreed. "So you did." 

"So you see," Belle smirked, reaching out to take his hand in her much smaller one. "We could reach a mutually beneficial compromise here. You want me, and I need you."

He smiled in spite of himself. They were similar in some small ways, using their wits to get what they wanted. Maybe he could do this small thing for her after all. 

With a wave of his hand a plush divan was nestled in the corner of his tower room. He made his way over to it, motioning for Belle to follow him.

"Come here, dearest," he said, sitting down on the new piece of furniture.

She bit her lip, a blush blooming on her cheeks, but didn't hesitate to join him. He reached out tentatively and grasped her by her hips, spinning her to face away from him and easing her back to sit on his lap, straddling his thighs. This would be easier for her if she didn't have to see him. Then she could pretend he was the handsome hero she so deserved, not a coward and a villain. 

"What are you doing?" she asked, her voice confused. She was so innocent, so pure. He was a monster for defiling her. 

"Just relax, sweetheart," he whispered against her ear, breath stirring her curls. He pushed her hair away from her neck, slowly planting kisses along her throat. Belle sighed happily and leaned back into him. He allowed his hands to roam, moving from her hips, up over her waist, neatly circumventing her breasts and back down. He would attempt to do this with as little insult to her person as possible. 

Belle seemed to be soothed by his kisses and caresses, positively melting against him. He couldn't say the same for himself. He was keenly aware of the effect Belle's body was having on his, adjusting himself so as not to molest her with evidence of his desire. 

When he felt she was sufficiently relaxed, his hand moved to the hem of her nightgown, slowly pulling it up over her legs, lightly stroking the soft skin left uncovered in its wake. 

"Tell me to stop and I will," he whispered against her neck as his hand trailed higher, pulling her skirts up over her knees to mid thigh.

"Don't you dare stop," Belle gasped. 

As soon as her dress was pulled high enough, Rumple slipped a hand under her skirt, steeling himself for the rejection he was sure was imminent. But Belle made no move to dislodge him, a slight tensing of her muscles the only indication that she'd even noticed his questing hand. He stroked the skin of her thighs hesitantly, giving her time to change her mind, to jump up and run from the room. He wouldn't blame her in the least. But apparently her need is greater than her rational mind, for she just pressed her body back against his more firmly, the movement causing his tight leather pants to feel even more restricting. 

Belle held her breath as his hand moved toward its final destination. When his fingers finally brushed against the curls nestled between her thighs, she released the breath in a soft whimper. It's music to Rumplestiltskin's ears.

He parted her folds, gently, running his fingers through the moisture pooled there. She's so wet, almost dripping, the moist heat of her causing his stiff prick to become impossibly harder. There's nothing for it now. Belle has to feel it pressing against her delicious little backside, though as innocent as she is she may not realize what it is. He clings to that idea with both hands.

He ran his fingers through her heat, moving her wetness to her outer lips before teasing the little bud at the apex of her sex. Belle shuddered and gasped at that.

"Again," she pleaded softly.

With a small smile, Rumple pushed one finger deeper into her, stroking in and out as his thumb came up to press against her clit.

"How is that, my sweet?" he couldn't help whispering in her ear.

"Good," Belle gasped. "So good."

After a moment, he added a second finger, probing in and out of her, curling against her inner walls. Belle's eyes slammed shut as her head fell back against his shoulder. He couldn't resist any longer, mouthing at her neck, pulling the lobe of her delicate ear into his mouth and sucking hard. The hand not occupied under her skirts moved of its own accord, coming up to knead her breast, rolling the hardened bud of her nipple under his flat palm. 

"Yes, Rumple," she cried. "Please..."

Her hips rocked against his hand as his fingers worked their magic, moving deeper within her as he increased the pressure against her clit. Suddenly her inner muscles closed around his fingers like a vice, grasping at him greedily as Belle tensed all over. She came hard, her body jerking against his, her bottom rubbing against his straining leather until he exploded within his trousers, biting down on her shoulder to muffle his own orgasm. 

Belle leaned her head back against him, her breath coming in shuddering gasps as her body was still wracked with aftershocks. Rumple pressed a kiss to her shoulder, an apology. He hadn't meant to let himself get carried away and now he's stuck with a mess in his pants and the knowledge of just how sweet his caretaker's body really is. 

"That's better," Belle gasped when she was finally able to speak. "Thank you." 

A few moments later she was drowsing lightly, still seated across his thighs, head cradled on his shoulder. In a puff of purple magic, Rumple transported them to her bedroom, laying her down against her bed and drawing the covers up over her. 

He needed to change, needed to unwind, needed to berate himself for succumbing to his own lust. But the sight of Belle tucked up, sleeping sweetly is too much for him. He bent over her bed, pressing a chaste kiss to her forehead. 

"Goodnight, sweetheart," he whispered, petting the sweaty curls back from her face.

Belle's eyes fluttered open sleepily. 

"Stay with me?" she begged, drowsily. 

She's so beautiful, sweaty and sated and spent, that he cannot refuse her.

Rumplestiltskin nodded. With a wave of magic his clothes were clean once more, and he climbed on the bed on top of the covers. 

He would stay only until she fell asleep. He could give her that at least. A large and uncontrollable part of him wanted nothing more than to snuggle up next to Belle and hold her for as long as she would let him. Because if Rumplestiltskin knew anything, it was that happiness was fleeting. She most likely would not welcome his touch again, and he would enjoy it while he could. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This part isn't based on a prompt. Just Present!Belle coming to terms with the fact she can't remember her child.

Belle was numb as she sat in the front seat of the Cadillac, a silent tear slipping down her cheek. Rumple had his eyes on the road; the icy fear and regret that had hold of her heart seemed to be present in his as well.

In the backseat, strapped into her car seat and sleeping soundly, was Rowan. Their daughter. A daughter Belle had no memory of. She squeezed her eyes shut at the thought.

They pulled up in front of the pink house in silence, and Rumple quickly unbuckled Rowan from the back seat, lifting her to his shoulder so seamlessly that she didn’t even stir. Holding the little girl in one arm he fumbled with the keys with his other hand, eventually getting the front door open. He seemed completely natural with her, but then again he’d been a father before, hadn’t he? He’d carried a sleeping child home after a long day, tucked them in, kissed their forehead.

Baelfire.

This had to be so much harder for Rumple than it even was for her.

“We should get her to bed,” Rumple whispered. It was the first thing he’d said since they’d departed the diner.

“Where do you think her room is?” Belle whispered back, thinking of the myriad guest rooms in Rumple’s large home.

“The one closest to ours,” Rumple said without hesitation. He dropped his keys into the bowl on the table in the entry way and set up the stairs to put their daughter to bed. Belle followed silently.

He was right, of course, the bedroom next to theirs was painted a pale blue. It seemed they’d gone with an enchanted forest theme for Rowan’s room complete with a mural of a large tree on one wall. A Rowan tree, Belle thought sadly. She wondered if she’d painted it herself. The white canopy bed had leaves and branches carved into the posts, the comforter a soft pink.

Rumple laid the little girl on the bed while Belle moved to the white dresser against the wall. In the top drawer she found a pair of soft white pajamas with little roses on them and together they managed to get their daughter changed and tucked into bed.

Rowan only woke up once, her face confused for a moment before she spotted Belle.

“Mommy!” she cried out, reaching for Belle, who froze unsure of what to do.

“Hush, sweetheart, go to sleep,” Rumple intervened, rescuing her. “Sweet dreams, darling.” He pushed the little girls dark curls back from her face, kissing her forehead before he stood to leave the room.

Belle just stood there, staring at the sleeping child, willing herself to remember something, anything. But it was like trying to remember a dream after waking. The harder she concentrated, the faster it seemed to slip away. She thought she could almost recall a smell like baby powder, a baby’s giggle, but then it was gone again.

By the time she joined Rumple in the living room he was slouched down in an armchair, a glass of scotch in his hand.

“I don’t remember her,” she said uselessly. Rumple continued to stare forward unblinkingly.

“How can I not remember her?” she continued, panic rising in her chest. “She’s my child. I carried her in my body but I have no idea who she is.”

When Rumple still didn’t answer, Belle grew impatient.

“Damn it, Rumplestiltskin, answer me!”

Rumple jumped, turning to stare at her as if he’d only just realized she was in the room.

“I don’t know,” he said after a moment of silence. “I suppose when we changed the past, the future corrected itself to follow those events. No one but us remembers that there was ever an alternate path. When we arrived back from the past, the versions of us that existed in this future disappeared for all intents and purposes and we took their place.”

“Will we ever have those memories? It happened to us, we should remember.”

Rumple shrugged, taking a sip of his drink. “It didn’t happen to us. Our future played out the way it always did. I threw you out, you died, I died, and here we are. We created an alternate timeline that we are now living in. Our timeline no longer exists.”

Belle felt cold, like icy fingers were gripping her insides and twisting them.

“So you’re saying I’ll never remember the first four years of my child’s life?” she asked tearfully. “That I missed a huge chunk of her childhood and I’ll never get it back? How can you just sit here? Do something!”

Rumple had been so calm thus far, moving mechanically as they brought Rowan home and put her to bed, but he snapped suddenly, hurling his half empty glass at the fireplace where it shattered loudly.

“Do you think I’m not _destroyed_ by this, Belle?” he asked, standing and rounding on her. Belle shrunk in the face of his fury even though she knew it wasn’t directed at her. “I spent three hundred years trying to find one child after abandoning him for most of his life only for him to die right in front of me. Now I have no memory of another child. I’ve failed utterly at being a father for the second time.”

Belle didn’t bother holding back the tears now, letting them run freely down her flushed cheeks.

“It’s not your fault, Rumple.”

“Isn’t it?” he demanded. “We never should have left them – us – alone back there. We should have watched them every moment, we should have done something. We’ve completely changed everything, Belle!”

Belle shook her head. "I can't regret it," she said. "I can't regret that little girl, Rumple. She's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. When I look at her, I feel something like I've never felt before, like my heart is being squeezed so tightly. And I know that she's _mine._ She's _ours_. I cannot and will not regret that."

Rumplestiltskin blanched, staring at her for a moment before reaching out and pulling her into his arms and kissing the top of her head.

"No, sweetheart, of course not," he murmured against her hair, rubbing soothing circles against her back. "Any child we made together can only be a wonderful thing, a bloody miracle. That's not what I meant."

Belle cried against Rumple's shoulder until she felt like there were no tears left in her. When she felt shriveled and dehydrated she finally pulled away from him.

"I just want to remember her." she said plainly.

Rumple nodded resolutely. "I'll find a way, darling. I promise."

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous prompted: Time Travel Remix prompt: Belle and Rumple explaining to Rowan (and everybody else in town) that they don’t have any memory of her.
> 
> anonymousnerdgirl prompted: Time Travel!baby AU: Past!Rumbelle try to figure out what transpired during their period of memory loss, while Present!Rumbelle work on piecing together the life they would have lived because of the changes they made. Bonus points if both attempts include a dream catcher, all the possible points if Neal lives!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Both of these prompts will continue into the next chapter. Things got a little unwieldy in this one.

Belle had a fitful night’s sleep, despite being curled up next to Rumple back in their own bed and their own time. There were a million questions running through her head. They had irrevocably altered their timeline, evidenced by Rowan’s existence. But what else had they changed?

She couldn’t imagine Rumple ever casting her out if she was pregnant with his child. But perhaps he hadn’t known Rowan was his. If they’d taken the forgetting potion as instructed, they would have no memory of the conception.

Had he thrown her out? Had she still been kidnapped by Regina? Had she given birth in a dank cell, chained to a wall? She couldn’t bear to imagine Rowan entering the world in such a manner. And what had become of their daughter in the intervening twenty-eight years of the curse? She couldn’t imagine Regina keeping a small child locked in the asylum. Surely even the Evil Queen wasn’t that heartless.

Beside her she felt Rumplestiltskin tossing and turning, evidently having no more success at falling asleep than she was. She wanted his comfort, though she knew she had no right to demand it. She had already cried on his shoulder once that night leading to his assurances he would find a way to bridge the gap in their memories. She knew Rumple blamed himself, but she was just as sure that Rowan’s conception fell on her shoulders. Rumple had been so careful, so cautious with her. They hadn’t shared a bed until months after they were reunited in Storybrooke, and even then it had been at her urging. He’d never have pushed himself on her. No, she was positive she had been the instigator.  

It was well past midnight when Belle finally succumbed to exhaustion, falling into a fitful sleep. She was plagued with dreams, sweet and nightmarish by turn. There were flashes of something like memory; the swell of her stomach under a white nightdress, a look of wonder on Rumple’s face as he pressed his scaled hand to her bump, an aching feeling of loneliness. Then she was holding her baby wrapped in a soft white blanket, her sweet little cheeks rosy and her dark eyes twinkling in the dim light. But a moment later her child was torn from her arms leaving her sobbing, alone in Regina’s cell, her heart feeling as though it had split in half.

Morning came far too quickly as Belle was awoken by a bundle of tousled brown curls barreling into the room and leaping onto the bed, snuggling down between her and Rumple.

“I want pancakes,” Rowan announced cheerfully to her groggy parents.

“I see she’s a morning person,” Rumple said, rolling over and pulling a pillow over his head. “I blame you for that.”

Belle threw her pillow at him, but got out of the bed at Rowan’s urging, leading the little girl down into the kitchen.

Rowan had a stuffed turtle clutched in one tiny hand, her curly hair sticking up in every direction and her wide brown eyes alight with curiosity as Belle pulled down the ingredients for pancakes. As she set about making breakfast, Rowan pulled a chair from the breakfast table over to the kitchen counter and climbed up to better see what her mother was doing.

“Can I help?” she asked brightly.

“Sure,” Belle replied, looking around for something at the little girl’s skill level. “Would you like to mix the batter?”

Rowan nodded enthusiastically as Belle handed her a large wooden spoon and positioned her in front of a mixing bowl.

“Now, not too hard, just gently stir.”

“I know how to do it, Mommy,” Rowan sighed, sounding so much like Rumple that Belle had to stop and stare for a moment.

As if summoned by the thought, Rumple poked his head into the kitchen, already fully dressed.

“I’m heading out for a bit, Belle.”

“Where are you going?” she asked frantically.

“I have to head in to the shop,” he replied as if it should be obvious. “I have a significant amount of work to do, darling,” he added pointedly.

Belle crossed the kitchen, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him into the hall.

“You can’t leave me alone with her,” she whispered, glancing back into the kitchen where Rowan was happily mixing pancake batter as it sloshed over the sides of the bowl and onto the countertop.

Rumple followed her gaze. “You seem to be doing fine.”

“I’ve never taken care of a child by myself before! What if I do something wrong?”

Rumple laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. “I have the utmost faith in you.”

Belle just gaped at him. He seemed almost cheerful, buoyant energy crackling off him in waves. It was a marked difference from the despair she’d seen in him last night.

“Why are you so calm this morning?”

“I think I have a plan,” he smiled. “To fill the gaps in our memories. I’ll be home in a few hours.”

“What’s your plan?” Belle asked excitedly. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Rumple just bent forward and kissed her cheek. “Keep our daughter from destroying the kitchen,” he said with a twinkle in his eye and a glance to where Rowan was elbow deep in pancake batter.

“Oh! I almost forgot. I found these upstairs,” Rumple exclaimed, pulling something from his pocket. In his hand was a white gold ring with an enormous diamond solitaire. He slipped the piece of jewelry onto her ring finger before waggling a matching gold band on his own finger. “It appears we’re already married, so that’s one less thing to worry about.”

Belle just stared down at the diamond on her finger trying to come to terms with the fact that she not only had no memory of her daughter’s birth and early life, but she couldn’t recall her own wedding either.

“We’re married,” she said flatly.

“That we are, Mrs. Gold,” Rumple beamed at her. “And hopefully by tonight we might even remember the wedding.”

“Mommy!” Rowan called from the kitchen, interrupting them. “I think I made a boo boo!”

Belle spun around to see the little girl nearly covered from head to toe in pancake batter. She could hear Rumple chuckling behind her.

“She seems to have inherited your cooking skills,” he teased. Belle slapped him on the arm, rushing to grab Rowan and herd her into the downstairs bathroom.

“I’ll be home soon,” Rumple called on his way out the door. “I promise!”

* * *

Rumplestiltskin felt lighter than he had in a year as he made his way toward the center of town. Waking up to Belle in his arms, their child snuggled safely between them, felt like the best kind of dream. Rumple was still reeling from the death of his son. Nothing would ever be able to replace his darling boy. But he’d been a father first and foremost for most of his life. Knowing he had a child, someone to protect and love, gave him a purpose like nothing else. He would find a way to fix the breach in his and Belle’s timeline, and he would do it today.

But first, he had to make a quick stop to know exactly what he was dealing with.

He pulled up in front of Mary Margaret Blanchard’s apartment building, now home to the entire Charming clan, with a smile. It was the most delicious form of payback to be calling on them this early in the morning. God knows they’d interrupted enough of his life.

That’s why he was shocked when Emma answered the door after only one quick knock.

“Oh, great! You’re here!” she exclaimed upon seeing him on her doorstep.  It was certainly the warmest greeting Rumplestiltskin had ever received from the Savior. “That saves us a trip.”

Emma turned back to the apartment, rushing over to the tiny kitchen and pulling a pan off the burner.

“Go say goodbye to Henry real quick,” she called to him as he made his way inside. “We’re off in the next half hour.”

“What are you blathering on about, Miss Swan?” he asked, nodding to Charming who was settled in the living room cradling his newborn son.

“We were always heading back to New York after this Zelena thing was cleared up,” Emma said as she spooned scrambled eggs onto a plate. “Now that the wicked witch is toast, there’s nothing to hold us here. We have lives to get back to.”

“So you’re just leaving?” Rumple asked incredulously.

“Why shouldn’t we?” Emma returned with a shrug. “Henry’s got to finish 7th grade some time.”

“And what awaits you there, Miss Swan?” he countered. “An overpriced apartment and an evil monkey minion fiancé?”

Emma slammed her plate down.

“Not you too,” she exclaimed with a roll of her eyes.

“It’s no use, Gold,” David called from the living room. “She’s dead set on leaving us.”

“Look, Henry and I had a really good thing going in New York. Our lives were blessedly normal, no evil witches, no crazy immortal grandfathers – no offense,” she motioned at Rumple. “Is it so wrong for me to want my son to have a normal life?”

It sounded like a rehearsed speech to Rumple’s ears. The Savior was trying to sell herself on the merits of her normal life, but she wasn’t convinced. She only thought she was doing right by Henry. But Henry was the last connection he had to his son on this earth. He wasn’t giving up that easily. Besides, he needed Emma’s help.

“What does Regina have to say about all this?” Rumple asked.

Emma rolled her eyes again, and Rumplestiltskin was vaguely surprised they didn’t stick in that position.

“Fuming, of course. Look, it’s not like we’re never going to visit,” she said, looking between her father and Rumple. “We have family here.”

“Exactly the reason you should stay,” Charming chimed in.

The Savior seemed to draw into herself at that. Rumplestiltskin knew a losing battle when he saw one, so he got right to the point.

“I need your help, Miss Swan.”

Emma almost dropped the mug of hot chocolate she was preparing.

“What?” she exclaimed. “Is this some kind of ploy to get me to stay here with Henry, because I swear to God, Gold…”

“I have a daughter,” he interrupted her.

Emma just blinked at him. “Yeah. I know. Henry’s four- year-old aunt. After the thirty-year-old grandparents, that one seems relatively normal.”

“I have a daughter that I have no recollection of,” he clarified.

Emma continued to stare at him as Charming stood up to place his son in his bassinet and walked over to join them.

“What are you talking about?” he asked.

“Do you two recall Zelena’s time portal opening yesterday?” he prompted. Could it have really only been yesterday? It felt like a lifetime ago, and in many ways it was. At Charming and Emma’s nods, Rumple continued. “Belle and I managed to fall through it. We ended up back in the Enchanted Forest before Regina’s original curse. We spent some time with our past incarnations, and despite our best efforts we made some rather drastic changes.”

“What are you saying?” Emma asked warily.

“I’m saying, Miss Swan, that when I woke up yesterday Belle and I didn’t have a daughter. And today we do. I’d like to know just what else I missed.”

Emma sat down hard at the kitchen table.

“What the fuck kind of Marty McFly shit is this?”

“Emma!” Charming scolded with a glance at the bassinet. “Language!”

Emma continued as though he hadn’t interrupted. “So what, Rowan didn’t exist until yesterday?”

“Not in my timeline,” Rumple answered. “Belle and I only remember how things originally played out. We have no memory of this timeline. I have no way of knowing how drastic the differences between the two time streams are.”

“So what can I do?” Emma asked dazedly.

“Fill the gaps,” he replied. “For instance, in my memories, I thought Belle was dead for the entirety of the curse. Regina had her locked up in the hospital basement for twenty-eight years.”

Emma nodded. “That sounds about right. I never met her until after the curse was broken.”

“And Rowan?” Rumple asked apprehensively. “Where was she during all that time?”

“She was with you, of course.” Emma said simply.

Rumplestiltskin had to sit down as well at that news. “Are you quite sure?”

“Yeah,” Emma assured him. “I remember the first time I saw you with her. I thought I was having a stroke seeing the most feared man in town dote on a toddler. She had you wrapped around her little finger. It’s what made me realize you were probably a decent guy underneath all the snark. Well, until you beat the shit out of her grandfather on Valentine’s Day.”

“Language!” Charming whispered harshly.

“So that still happened,” Rumple intoned, ignoring David’s interruption. “What was the reason behind it?”

“You really don’t know any of this,” Emma stated wonderingly. “He tried to kidnap Rowan. He had cursed memories of a daughter you seduced and then abandoned so she slit her wrists in the bathtub. He said he was taking his granddaughter before you could destroy her life too. I had to arrest you, though I didn’t really blame you for what you did.”

Rumplestiltskin had to swallow back the bile that rose in his throat at the false history. It struck too close to home, to the way he believed things had played out for three decades. Regina’s curse was apparently even crueler to him in this new timeline. In his original cursed memories, there had never been a counterpart for Belle. Moe French was a childless bachelor.

“You said _still happened_ ,” Emma said suddenly. “If Rowan didn’t exist for you, what did you beat up Moe for?”

“He stole my cup,” Rumple replied flippantly.

Emma blinked at him owlishly. “So you’re telling me you were even more of an asshole in your original timeline?”

Rumple grimaced at her. “I’m telling you that I remember events differently. Now I promised Belle we would remember our daughter. Are you going to help me, or are you going to scamper off back to New York with your tail between your legs?”

In the end it was remarkably easy to convince Emma that he needed her. It seemed to him there was a large part of her searching for a reason to stay in Storybrooke. He was sure it would take very little manipulation on his part to get the Savior and his grandson to remain in town for the foreseeable future.

As it was, Miss Swan followed him to his shop, shrugging her leather jacket off and hanging it on the coat rack just inside the door.

"Okay, let’s get this over with. We’re burning daylight."

Rumplestiltskin suppressed a sigh, gesturing to Emma to follow him to the back of his shop.

"I presume you remember this," he said, pulling a dream catcher from the cabinet in his office.

"Yeah," Emma grimaced. "That’s how we accessed Pongo’s memories when we thought Regina had killed Archie. It’ll work on you?"

Rumple shrugged. “I’m vastly more complex, but it’s the same general principal. Your magic is stronger now than it was then. It shouldn’t be too difficult for you.”

Emma was shaking her head, her arms crossed against her chest. “But you said you don’t have any memories. Your memories are all wrong. How will that catch anything?”

Rumple rubbed his thumb against his right eye attempting to stave off the headache forming there. Time Travel had never been done before, everything he knew about it was theoretical. They were in completely uncharted territory.

"I’m the same person as the man you’ve known for the past few years, Miss Swan, but I have different experiences from that man. But because I am, in actual fact, that same man, I should have access to his memories. They’re just blocked because I didn’t experience them myself."

"Okay," Emma said skeptically. "I think I follow. But when I did this with Pongo, it was accessing one memory in an animal with no mental blocks. Now I’m trying to access a lifetime of repressed memories in the most complicated human being I know. I think this is above my pay grade."

"You can do it," Rumple replied reassuringly.

"No. I can’t," Emma cried. "I couldn’t defeat Zelena. I can’t do this. You should get Regina."

"With all due respect, Miss Swan, I’d rather not have her majesty digging around in my head. I’m sure you can understand that."

Emma stared at him for a moment, her eyes appraising.

"Fair enough," she said finally. "I’m sure there’s a lot of information in there you’d rather keep hidden. So why me?"

"Because you loved my son," Rumple said with a sigh. "That makes us family. I trust you."

He didn’t think he was imagining the tears that sprung up in Emma’s eyes at his words, but a moment later they were gone. Good, she would need that emotion to fuel the spell.

After another long moment, Emma nodded.

"Okay," she said reaching for the dream catcher. "But if I screw up and you end up brain damaged, it’s on you."

Rumplestiltskin sat down on the cot in the back room with a smirk. Best to get comfortable. They had a lot of ground to cover.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A continuation of the prompts from the previous chapter. Belle admits to Rowan that her memory is patchy while Gold and Emma work to restore his memories of the new timeline.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the purposes of this fic we're ignoring that whole Emma lost her powers from Hook's enchanted lips bit. It's her lack of faith in herself that is her block, and her unwillingness to commit to her life in Storybrooke after a year of "normal" life.

Less than three hours after Rumple had left the house that morning, Belle came to the conclusion that being a mother was exhausting. But she'd never been happier in her life.

She'd managed to get Rowan into the bathtub and cleaned of pancake batter relatively quickly. Then they'd headed back to the kitchen to try cooking again. This time Belle kept a watchful eye on the little girl, making sure to preempt any messes before they could get out of hand. After breakfast was completed with only a minor mishap involving maple syrup, Rowan wanted to play outside.

Watching her daughter run through the garden, dark curls streaming out behind her glinting red in the sunlight, took Belle's breath away. Now that she had a child she couldn't imagine that she'd ever lived life without her. It was incredible to think that despite all the odds stacked against them, she and Rumple had created this perfect little creature, a living testament to their true love.

Then Rowan had stumbled into a mud puddle, falling splat on her backside. Belle held her breath for a moment, waiting for the inevitable wail to come from Rowan's lips. Children usually cried when they fell down, didn't they?

She jumped up from her spot on the porch and rushed toward Rowan only to find the little girl overcome with giggles.

"Mommy did you see that?" she gasped.

"I did, sweetheart," she replied, laughing along with her daughter. "Are you okay?"

Rowan just nodded and got up to continue her race around the backyard. 

After Belle had gotten the little girl cleaned up again and started her muddy clothes in the washing machine, Rowan decided she wanted to read a story. So they made their way to the library on the second floor, now equipped with an entire shelf of children's books and set to reading. Rowan seemed to favor stories with knights and dragons and grand adventures. Belle couldn't help but smile at the bits of herself present in her daughter.

Three stories later, Rowan had fallen sound asleep on the leather sofa in the library, giving Belle her first moment to herself all day. She moved quietly about the room, replacing the books they had read and picking up various toys scattered here and there. Then she sat down and simply watched her daughter sleep.

Her heart had never felt so full as it did at the sight of Rowan’s little chest rising and falling reassuringly. She loved Rumple with all her heart. She could never imagine that she would ever love anyone as much as him. But Rowan had captured her heart in less than a day.

She wasn’t sure how long she sat there gazing at the sleeping child, but at long last her daughter awoke, rubbing at her eyes sleepily.

“Mommy?” she asked. “Why are you crying?” 

It was only then that Belle realized there were tears trailing down her cheeks.

“Oh, these are happy tears, baby,” she told her daughter truthfully. “I’m just so happy to spend time with you.”

Rowan’s brow wrinkled adorably. She had the same look on her face that Rumple often did when he was confused by her at the Dark Castle. Belle couldn’t help but let out a giggle through her tears.

“You’re acting funny,” Rowan said suspiciously.

“Am I?” Belle asked. “How so?”

“You forgot the blueberries in my pancakes,” Rowan stated. “And then when I took my bath you forgot about Roger.”

“Roger?” Now it was Belle’s turn to be confused. Who on earth was Roger?

“My ducky,” Rowan explained. “You didn’t get Roger to sing me the bath time song.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” Belle said emphatically. She couldn’t imagine how confusing this would be for a small child, but Rowan was smart and observant. She had to try to explain. “Mummy is having trouble remembering some things.”

“Again!” Rowan exclaimed. Belle’s stomach clinched at the frightened look on her daughter’s face.

“It does seem to happen, doesn’t it?”

“But you remember me and Papa this time, right?” 

Belle wondered which bout of amnesia the little girl was referencing, her lack of memories in her cursed state or her brief time as Lacey after being shot across the town line. Both events would have happened when Rowan was extremely young. Of course there was always the possibility that things had played out completely differently in this timeline.

“Of course, baby. I could never forget the two loves of my life.”

She knew she shouldn’t lie, but she couldn’t bring herself to tell the little girl the whole truth.

“Good,” Rowan said, looking relieved. “It makes Papa sad when you don’t remember us.”

With that she climbed over into Belle’s lap, curling up against her chest. Belle instinctively wrapped her arms around the child, kissing the top of her fluffy brown hair. 

“I’m hungry,” Rowan announced suddenly. Then she glanced up at her mother. “I like grilled cheese. In case you can’t remember.” 

Belle kissed her daughter again before taking her hand and leading her back downstairs to the kitchen. She hoped Rumple was having luck with figuring out their memories. She didn’t want to go one more day without knowing every important facet of her daughter’s life, like blueberries and a ducky named Roger.

* * *

“I can’t do it!” Emma cried, throwing the dreamcatcher down on the cot beside Rumple. “It’s no use. Your mind is too dense, too filled with memories for me to access the right ones!” 

“Try harder,” Rumple growled. His head ached from the effort of letting Emma in enough to poke around while still retaining some of his secrets. The last thing he needed was an image of Zelena’s death making itself known to the Savior. Though he imagined Emma would be more understanding than most.

“I’m trying as hard as I can!” Emma stood from her stool and paced around the back room of the shop. “See, this is why I want to go back to New York. No one ever asked me to do crazy fucking sorcery shit in New York.”

“You’re scared,” Rumple ground out. “Frightened of your own abilities. You need to embrace them.”

“Why?” Emma demanded. “Being the savior, it’s not all it’s cracked up to be. It’s brought me nothing but pain since the day I was born. So you can take your stupid goddamn loophole that made me into this mess and shove it.”

“I didn’t make you anything, Miss Swan,” Rumple rationalized. “Your power comes from your parents true love. You would have that regardless of whether I wrote you into my curse or not.”

Emma glared at him for a long moment.

“I can’t do this.” 

Rumplestiltskin rolled his eyes. “Do you have any idea how many times I’ve heard you say that over the years, Miss Swan? Typically right before you do the thing you’ve sworn you couldn’t.”

If anything Emma’s glare grew more piercing.

“Usually your magic kicks in in full force when you’re trying to protect someone, right?” he prompted. “Well, think of Rowan. She’s an innocent child. She’s Neal’s sister, Henry’s aunt, and she needs her parents. You needed your parents once, Emma. You grew up not knowing them. Please, I’ve already lost one child. Give me back my life with Rowan.”

Emma’s face softened at his plea and with an anguished groan she made her way back over to the cot.

“Fine,” she said. “I’ll give it one more shot, but this is it, Gold.”

She picked up the dream catcher, holding it in front of his face and concentrating on a point in the middle.

“Concentrate,” Rumple coached. “Use your emotions. I have faith in you, Emma.”

The dream catcher glowed with yellow light and suddenly Rumple was plunged into his own memories again.

They began the same as always, quick flashes of his life as a spinner. The sound of his mother's voice when he was still so young he can't conjure an image of her face, the creak of his small wheel beneath his fingers at the spinsters house, Milah smiling on their wedding day, the sweet baby smell of Baelfire the first time he had held him. Then his memories grew darker. The shadow ripping him from his father’s arms, the searing pain of his ankle bones crushed beneath a mallet, the sight of Hook across a crowded bar, the pirate’s arm draped around his wife, the sickening fear when the soldiers came for Bae, the feel of the curse ravaging his body, changing him, Bae’s small sweaty hand as it slipped from his and plunged him into the portal. 

The memories kept rushing by, little more than familiar smells or snatches of feelings. But then something changed. He was faced with unfamiliar sights. The anger he’d felt when he realized Belle was pregnant and the subsequent confusion of finding out the child was his. The tang of pineapple, the feel of his child pushing against his hand from within Belle’s womb. It was all going too fast, he couldn’t concentrate long enough on one memory before it had faded to the next.

He had a quick image of a squalling newborn, wrinkled and pink and an overwhelming feeling of pride followed by abject terror, his scaled hands clutching a handwritten note, the words illegible from his tears. It all became too much and he collapsed back against the cot, Emma slumping to the ground in front of him. 

“What – what happened?” Emma asked dazedly. “Gold, are you alright?”

Rumple continued to lie back, tears stinging his eyes while he willed his heartbeat to slow down. He felt the familiar beginnings of a panic attack and concentrated on regulating his breathing, taking long breaths through his nose.

After a moment, he felt calm enough to sit forward, running a shaking hand through his hair.

“You did it, Miss Swan,” he whispered roughly. “You unlocked my memories.”

And it was worse, so much worse than he could have imagined. 

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a short little interlude that I had posted to tumblr but is necessary for things that happen in the next chapter, so it's getting posted here as well!
> 
> tinuviel-undomiel prompted: Time Travel Remix Prompt: Belle feels the baby kick for the first time but doesn't know what it is and is scared something wrong.

One little accident, that’s all it had been. One little accident with a stove and a pineapple upside down cake, because really she wasn’t going to let all that pineapple Rumple had brought her go to waste, and she was banned from her own kitchen. 

She’d been distracted, reading an extremely graphic text on the wonders of childbirth, and lost track of time. It could have happened to anyone. But because she was pregnant with his child, the overprotective fool had restricted her to only three rooms in the vast castle.

And honestly, it had only been a teeny tiny fire. She’d caused much worse when she first arrived at the castle and Rumple had never taken such desperate measures then.

So now Belle was relegated to the library, her bedroom and the great hall. If she tried to set foot in any other room in the house, she was gently nudged into the closest chair and her feet propped up by a phantom footstool. It was ridiculous.

That’s how Belle found herself reclining on the chaise lounge in her sunlit library at tea time on an idle Thursday. If it had been a few short weeks ago, she’d be busy preparing Rumple’s afternoon tea, a brew she had perfected in the past year. But no, she hadn’t been permitted to “exert” herself ever since the pineapple upside down cake incident. Belle was afraid the whole ordeal had rather put her off the fruit. 

She stroked the spine of the book in her hand lovingly. It was a beautiful, leather bound tome full of the history of political intrigue of the surrounding kingdoms. But it wasn’t keeping her interest today. Belle glanced out the window at the sunny early fall afternoon. The sky was a crystal clear blue, the leaves on the trees only just beginning to change color. 

She longed to go outside, just for a short walk in the fresh air. Winter came quickly in the mountains. In a few short weeks it would be too cold to venture out into the gardens. If Rumplestiltskin was wary of small kitchen fires, she couldn’t imagine him allowing her out of doors in the snow. Heaven forbid she catch a cold, or slip on a patch of ice.

Belle rolled her eyes and tried not to think unkindly of her…she wasn’t quite sure what to call him these days. Master certainly didn’t fit any longer. Nor was he her lover, despite the growing bump beneath her dress. They were two people, existing in a state of limbo. It was endlessly frustrating. 

Perhaps Rumple would be amenable to her taking a short walk around the property. The weather was perfect, she had no chance of catching cold and the sunlight would probably do her good. Belle stood, intending to return her book to its shelf and call for Rumple when she felt a strange fluttering in her stomach. Perhaps she had eaten something funny.

She’d only managed to take a few more steps, when she felt the sensation again, followed by a sharp spasm in her lower abdomen. 

Belle cried out, pressing a hand to her stomach and stumbling back to her place on the chaise. This didn’t feel right. What if there was something wrong with the baby?

"Rumplestiltskin!" she called out frantically.

The word had barely left her mouth before the sorcerer was materializing in the middle of her library, spinning around to face her.

"What is it?" he asked anxiously, dropping to his knees at her side.

"I felt something strange," she replied, hand still gripping her abdomen tightly. "Is he alright?"

Rumple held a hand out over her stomach, waving it back and forth as it crackled with magic.

"Everything appears to be fine, my dear," he said after a moment. "Are you alright?"

Belle nodded, taking in the worry etched across Rumple’s face. She hadn’t meant to scare him, but the feeling in her womb was so unusual. It couldn’t be normal.

Rumple rested his hand against her belly, gazing at it fondly, when Belle suddenly felt the flutters again.

"There it is again!" Belle cried. "Did you feel it?"

Rumple didn’t answer, just stared at her wonderingly, a strange expression crossing his face somewhere between excitement and pure joy. He’d never looked more handsome. 

"What is it?" Belle asked. Her worries suddenly disappeared at the look on her imp’s face. Nothing bad could make him look quite so happy.

"She likes my voice," he gasped out. "She’s kicking. Oh, she’s so happy, Belle."

Rumple had reached his other hand up to stretch across her stomach, cupping her belly between his palms like it was the most precious treasure.

"She?" Belle prompted. "It’s a girl?"

Rumple looked up at her, slightly abashed. 

"Sorry to spoil the surprise," he mumbled. "But yes, it’s a girl. And she already loves her mama very much."

Rumple rubbed his hand against her stomach for a moment, almost caressing it. But then he seemed to come back to himself, stepping away from her quickly.

"She’s fine, dear," he explained. "Just healthy and moving about. I think she might quiet down if you read aloud to her."

"Okay," Belle agreed, her own hand dropping to her belly to better feel her daughter’s movements. It was an amazing feeling, to know something so real and vibrant was living within her. Belle felt more content than she could ever remember. 

"Good," Rumple rasped out. "Well, I have things to do. Must be going. I’ll see you at dinner."

Without another word, her turned on his heel and was gone.

Belle sat in silence for a moment, concentrating on the feel of her child thriving within her. Then she picked up the nearest book and began to read aloud.

"Once upon a time, in a faraway kingdom, there lived a beautiful princess…"

Belle smiled to herself, caressing her own beautiful princess nestled safely within her womb.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous prompted: TT! Remix Prompt: Since Belle & Rumple know it's a girl; they both discuss names.
> 
> tinuviel-undomiel prompted:Twenty Minutes Prompt!: Regina finds out that Belle is pregnant stirs up trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who voted for this story for Best Remix at the Espenson Awards! I am absolutely thrilled that it won! Please enjoy the smut!

Ever since the night Rumple had helped Belle with a certain affliction, things had changed subtly between them.

Their days were spent in much the same way they had been, with Rumple doing his best to make Belle comfortable while still maintaining a safe distance. But now that he knew the sounds Belle made at the height of her passion, it had grown increasingly hard to look her in the face. For the most part, he’d sequestered himself in his laboratory, only seeing her when she specifically called for him.

After her little mishap in the kitchen with the pineapple upside down cake, he’d limited her to only a few rooms of the castle, providing her meals with magic and specifically restricting her from the kitchen. Maybe he was being overprotective, but he’d rather be safe than sorry.

But that was during the daylight hours, when the sun was at its peak and he couldn’t hide his darkness from her. Their nights were a different story.

A few nights after their liaison in his tower laboratory, Belle had shown up at his bedroom door at midnight. He’d been wide-awake, lying on top of the covers and trying to force himself to sleep when he’d heard the soft patter of feet outside in the hallway. A moment later his door had creaked open and Belle had tiptoed in.

He’d just lain there with bated breath, staring at her as she drew nearer. Without a word she’d climbed into the bed with him, grabbing his hand and pulling it to the hem of her nightgown. He’d obliged her, weak bastard that he was, using his fingers to make her writhe and moan as he buried his face against her neck, breathing in the sweet scent of her. At least he’d managed not to come in his pants like he had the first time. Once she was sated, lying sweaty in his arms, she’d pulled her nightgown back down and left the room, all without a word.

And so a strange sort of rhythm had arisen between them. They spent their days apart, barely speaking unless Belle needed something from him. At night she would turn up on his doorstep and he’d figure out new ways to make her come undone, never taking any pleasure for himself. It was an entirely new sort of hell, but the fact he was allowed to touch her at all was such a blessing he’d never refute it.

It was an unspoken rule during these dalliances that they didn’t speak. To discuss their nightly interludes would be to break the spell. They’d have to confront what exactly was happening between them, the feelings he was sure were one sided. If he spoke, he’d tell her he loved her, and life as he knew it would cease to exist. Because Belle’s rejection would destroy him in ways he couldn’t quite fathom.

So it was a shock when one night, about two months after this routine began, Belle didn’t leave immediately after she was satisfied. Instead, she rolled onto her side, draping an arm around him and pillowing her head on his chest. He lay there, stiff for a moment, unsure of what was happening.

“What should we name her?” Belle asked sleepily, her words muffled against his shirt. 

“What?” he rasped out. His cock was painfully hard inside his leather breeches. Usually once Belle left he was able to see to himself, pump into his hand until he came with Belle’s name on his lips. This disruption from their routine was six kinds of unwelcome.

“Our daughter,” Belle said smoothly, glancing up at him as though she hadn’t just upset the balance of their entire relationship by speaking. “I think we should discuss names.”

“Why?” Rumple asked, still jarred by her speaking at all.

“Well, I’m around six months along,” Belle replied, reaching down to stroke her belly. “And now that I know the sex of the baby, I thought we could discuss names.”

Rumple stared at her incredulously for a moment. She had to be aware of his discomfort. It was fairly obvious, standing to attention and tenting his trousers.

“Can we do this another time?” he strained.

Belle glanced down at his groin and then back up to meet his eyes.

“There’s a fairly simple remedy for that, you know.” She posited. 

“Yes,” Rumple agreed. “You leave.”

“No,” she shook her head. “I stay.”

Rumple’s eyes widened as he pushed himself up into a sitting position. She couldn’t know what she was doing. With those two simple words she had completely wrecked the steady balance that had worked so well for them these past months. She had changed it all.

* * *

Belle knew exactly what she was doing. 

She had sought these nightly pleasures because it was the closest she could get to Rumple both physically and emotionally. He was always so guarded with her, kept his feelings hidden behind a mask so thick she couldn’t permeate it. If this was the only way she could feel him care for her, she’d take it, regardless of how her heart cried out for more.

And so their strange relationship had continued in a state of limbo, until the day they’d felt their daughter kick. That was the moment Belle knew that she loved him, completely and irrevocably. She’d had feelings for him for months. What had started as fascination had grown to a warm regard, a tenderness for him that she felt down deep in her heart. But the sight of Rumple’s face, lit up with undisguised pleasure as he felt their child move within her womb was the tipping point. She loved him, and she wanted to show him. 

So Belle had developed a plan. That night when she went to him, she would have all of him. And he would have irrefutable evidence of how she felt.

Rumple swallowed audibly as her words still seemed to echo around them.

 _I stay._  

“Sweetheart, you don’t have to –”

“I want to,” she interrupted him before he could refuse her for her own good. She wasn’t a child and she wasn’t an invalid. She was a woman, and she wanted the man she loved.

But words had never worked well between them, and actions spoke louder. She pulled herself upright, swinging one leg over his and straddling his lap. He looked adorably flummoxed, his hands reaching out to steady her on impulse.

“I want to,” she repeated, taking advantage of his momentary shock to pull her nightgown up over her head and cast it aside.

She could feel her blush spreading across her cheeks, but determinedly did not look away. As intimate as Rumple had been with her body over the past several weeks, she’d never been naked in front of him before.

 _Do the brave thing_ , she reminded herself.

Rumple’s eyes dropped immediately to her breasts, his breath coming out raggedly. Then they strayed lower to where her belly was nestled between them. Her bump was obvious now, though still rather small. But then again, she and Rumple were both small people. She couldn’t imagine their child being very large.

“Belle,” he gasped out finally, his eyes finding hers. He was looking at her so wonderingly, the same way he had looked when he felt their child kicking against his hand. She wanted to kiss him so badly, but she’d already used up all her courage to get to this point. She couldn’t take it any further. 

“I want you,” she said, hoping he could hear the unspoken truth in her words. That she loved him.

They stared into each other’s eyes for a moment before Rumple gave an imperceptible nod of his head and Belle let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding.

He eased her off his lap, and she was worried for a moment that he intended to leave. But he just laid her down on her side before spooning up behind her. Belle was slightly confused as to how this would work, but she trusted Rumplestiltskin. He was far more experienced than she, and he hadn't let her down yet.

He hooked her right leg up over his hip, snaking a hand down to tease her entrance. She was still slick from when he’d satisfied her before. 

She felt a whisper of magic and then his clothes were gone and his hand was replaced with _him_ pressing against her core. Belle shivered pleasurably at the sensation. He rested one hand on her waist, his head bowed against her shoulder, and slowly pushed into her.

Belle nearly sobbed in relief at the feel of him within her at last, like she was finally whole for the first time in forever. Rumple groaned, his breath teasing the damp curls at the nape of her neck, and his hand tightened on her waist as he began to rock gently against her.

Belle gasped at the feel of him moving within her, her hand going to link with his. He felt incredible, everything they’d done up to this point a pale imitation of this. He grabbed her leg, pulling it up higher on his hip and allowing him to go even deeper within her. She rocked back against him, reaching her hand back to tangle in his curly hair, dragging her nails against his scalp. Rumple’s pace increased at that as his mouth found her neck, nipping and sucking at the tender flesh. His hand stroked up and down her side, finally settling at her breast, plucking at her puckered nipple until all the differing sensations threatened to drown her. She cried out, pushing her hips back against him, chasing that high that was so close she could feel it.

"Please," she moaned. "So close."

Rumple obliged her at last, reaching down to stroke her little nub in concert with his thrusts. It only took a few flicks of his fingers before light was exploding behind her eyelids, her breath coming out in sobs as she shuddered with the force of her orgasm. She was still coming down from her climax when she felt Rumple stiffen and empty himself deep inside her with a rush of warmth.

They lay there panting for a moment, coming to terms with the enormity of what they'd just done, until she felt him slip from her body. She relaxed back against his chest, his arms wrapping around her and holding her close. Belle shut her eyes against the tears she could feel forming there. She didn’t want Rumple to get the wrong idea, to think he’d done something wrong. These were happy tears. Lying in the arms of the man she loved, she felt loved, even if only by his body. She wanted to tell him so badly, but she was too afraid of the consequences of that declaration. It had been hard enough to convince Rumple that she wanted him. She wasn’t sure he was ready for her love. 

She took several deep breaths, calming herself before she rolled over in his arms to face him.

“I like the name Rowan,” she said, snuggling against his chest.

“A powerfully magical name,” Rumple replied, his voice low and hoarse.

“I know,” Belle smiled. “I think she’s going to take after her papa.”

“Oh, Belle,” he reached up to cup her cheek, stroking his thumb across her cheekbone softly. His strange eyes were so soft, looking at her like she was something precious, something worthy of his love. Belle’s breath caught in her chest as he leaned forward, his lips mere inches from hers.

They’d never kissed, she realized with a start. In all their midnight trysts, just now with the first remembered consummation of their relationship, they had never once kissed. Now she wanted more than anything for him to bridge the gap between them, to cover her mouth with his own, to taste him.

Belle’s eyes slipped closed in anticipation, but a moment later Rumple had pulled back, a strange expression on his face.

“Someone’s here,” he said, sitting up and immediately on alert.

With a wave of his hand, he was dressed in his customary intimidating leathers.

“Stay here,” he demanded. And then he was gone, the door slamming behind him.

Belle suddenly felt the full weight of her disappointment crash down upon her. She wasn’t sure why a kiss felt so important after everything else that had transpired between them, but it felt as though they’d been on the brink of something and now the moment was lost. 

She sighed, grabbing her nightgown from the floor where it had landed earlier and slipping it on over her head. Rumple had seemed startled at the intrusion, though it had to just be someone looking to make a deal. She was fairly used to people showing up at all hours seeking Rumple’s help. Had he just panicked at what had transpired between them, looking for any excuse to be out of her presence? Was there even a visitor at their gates at all?

She found her robe and pulled it on over her nightgown before heading down to the main hall. It was one of the few rooms she still had dominion in, and she was curious about who, if anyone, was visiting so late. And part of her was angry and hurt by Rumplestiltskin. Couldn’t he have ignored the desperate soul on his doorstep rather than abandoning her moments after their first time together? Well, their first remembered time together. In any case, she was in no mood to heed his orders.

She padded down the main staircase and into the entrance hall pausing outside the large open doors to the main hall. Peeking in, she saw Rumple sitting at the head of the long table. Standing near him was an elegant woman with long dark hair dressed head to toe in black. Her clothing and hairstyle were impeccable, her blood red lips currently pulled back in a ferocious grin. She might have been beautiful if there had been something less feral about her smile, something softer in her eyes that seemed to glint in the firelight like chips of obsidian, hard and black.

Belle felt a stab of something like jealousy. Rumple had left her alone in bed to meet with this woman.

“I did exactly what you asked,” the woman snarled. “King George’s kingdom is well nigh bankrupt. The way I see it, you owe me.”

Rumplestiltskin let out one of his impish giggles, the likes of which Belle hadn’t heard in a long time.

“Well, dearie, I’m afraid I have to disagree,” he trilled. “I already played my part in that bargain. It’s not my fault it didn’t turn out how you wanted.”

“I need that spell, Rumple,” the woman said, leaning over him in a move calculated for intimidation though Rumple seemed nonplussed.

“And I need a magic bean,” he replied with a flourish. “We can’t always get what we want,” he added in an off putting sing song voice.

The woman rolled her eyes, pushing back from the table and heading for the open doorway.

“One day you’ll need my help, Rumple” she called over her shoulder. “I look forward to that day.”

“I wouldn’t count on it, dearie!” 

Belle quickly shuffled back, trying to get out of the woman’s line of sight as she left the room, but as soon as she tried to open the door to the corridor that led to the kitchens, she was gently nudged away by Rumple’s magic and found herself seated in a plush chair in the entrance hall. She stood as quickly as she was able, trying to find another place to hide, but it was too late.

“And who are you?” the woman called out, coming to stand in the doorway to the main hall. “No, let me guess, the maid?”

Belle spun around to face the woman. 

“Yes,” she replied steadily. Before she could elaborate further Rumple was at her side.

“What are you doing down here, dearie?” he said coldly. “Off to bed with you.”

Belle blanched at his tone, treating her like a child mere minutes after he had shared her bed.

He grabbed her elbow, steering her toward the stairs, but she wrenched her arm away from him. She didn’t immediately realize her robe had fallen open until she heard the woman gasp. She glanced down at her belly, clearly visible beneath her nightgown.

The woman in black’s eyes glittered menacingly sending a shiver down Belle’s spine. 

“Oh Rumple,” she said with a flash of white teeth. “Who knew you had it in you?”

“What are you implying?” he demanded, his voice little more than a growl.

“The girl is pregnant, Rumple,” the woman said motioning at Belle. “I must say it’s comforting to know that underneath all that glittering gold skin you’re still just a man.”

“Get out,” he said threateningly.

The woman just smirked, turning on her heel and sashaying out the castle’s front doors. 

Once she was gone, Rumple rounded on Belle.

“What the bloody hell were you thinking? Didn’t I tell you to stay put?” 

Belle could feel her ire rising at his angry tone. “I’m a grown woman, Rumplestiltskin. I can go where I please!”

“Not when she’s here,” he bellowed back. “That, dear, was the Evil Fucking Queen. She didn’t get that name because of her love of rainbows and unicorns.”

“So she knows I’m pregnant,” Belle shrugged. “What does that matter? People were bound to find out.”

“Because she’ll find a way to use this against me, Belle. I was trying to protect you and our child, why couldn’t you just listen to me?”

“Because you left!” she cried. “That was my first time for all intents and purposes, and you just…left.”

Rumple looked stricken at her words, his eyes dropping to his feet, his thumb rubbing against his forefinger in that nervous habit of his.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he whispered. “I could feel her magic when she entered the castle. I wanted to head her off, to prevent this from happening.”

“Well now she knows,” Belle said petulantly. She knew she was being irrational, but she was hurt. He’d abandoned her in his bed to meet with this attractive, elegant Queen while she was feeling more and more like a beached whale every day. She wanted him to hold her and soothe her aching heart, but he was standing too far away and refusing to meet her eyes. She wanted him to look at her, dammit.

“I suppose she’ll spread the news far and wide of the Dark One’s whore,” she said dully.

That did the trick, Rumple’s eyes snapped up to meet hers. 

“Belle, no –” 

“Goodnight, Rumple,” she interrupted. Turning, she headed back up the stairs to her bedroom. She wanted so badly for him to come after her, to tell her she was wrong, that she was so much more than that, that he loved her. But he never came to her door, and after hours of crying into her pillow, she finally drifted off to sleep.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous prompted: Time Travel Remix: Belle wants desperately a kiss, but unusual situations happens everytime they try to kiss each other.
> 
> Woodelf68 prompted: Time travel remix prompt: Belle or Rumpel come across the photo album/s full of pictures of the time they don't remember with Rowan. Maybe videos, too.

"What all did you see?" Rumple rasped out, as soon as he had collected his thoughts. His momentary stupor overcome, he immediately sought to mitigate the fallout.

"Not much," Emma replied, still looking at him warily. "It all went by so fast I couldn't really hold on to anything."

Rumple nodded. That was good. He was still reeling from what he'd uncovered. He didn't want to have to discuss it with the Savior.

"Was that Hook?" she asked after a moment, her cheeks tinting pink. "I'm sorry, I just saw something in there. Hook with a dark haired woman."

"Milah," he replied. "She was my wife, Baelfire's mother. She left us for your darling pirate."

"Milah was Neal's mother!" she exclaimed. "How has no one ever told me this? Hook dated Henry's grandmother?"

"If it's any comfort, she wasn't much of a mother."

"That's no comfort at all," Emma said with a shake of her head.

"Miss Swan, I'd appreciate it if you'd keep the details of what happened today to yourself," Rumple continued, ignoring Emma's obvious distress at her son's complicated family tree. "I trust you won't mention any of this to Belle."

Emma quirked a brow at him. "You want me to lie to Belle?"

"The memories you unlocked are fleeting at best," he sighed. "I'm sure they'll solidify in the coming days but I don't want to get Belle's hopes up if this doesn't work correctly. I need more to share with her than just snippets of the life we led."

Emma continued to stare at him, her gaze penetrating. He had the uncomfortable feeling that she was reading his mind, not surprising considering she'd just done exactly that.

"Fine," she said at long last. "It's not really my business anyway."

Once Emma had left, muttering under her breath about having to stay another day in Storybrooke, Rumple let himself collapse in his desk chair.

His head was spinning. He had so many lives in his head, churning, entwining and running together. He had two sets of curse memories now. He took a moment to inspect those first.

They seemed to coincide with what Emma had told him. Lacey French had been little more than a teenager when she took up with Mr. Gold. Her reputation had suffered, the whole town considering her his whore. When he found out she was pregnant, her father had cut her off. She’d had no one to turn to but Gold, but by that point he’d had his fun. He broke her heart without a thought. Then after the birth, he’d used his money and influence to gain sole custody of Rowan leaving the poor girl with nothing.

She’d slit her wrists in the bathtub on Valentine’s Day the following year, her body lying in the cold water for three days before someone thought to check on her.

“It’s not real,” he muttered to himself, rubbing a hand against his eyes. “It’s just the curse.”

Regina had wanted to punish him even more this time around, it seemed. In the original timeline she’d made him a lonely miser. In this one she’d made him pure evil.

When his cursed persona had heard about Lacey’s death, he’d mourned the loss of a decent fuck, and nothing more.

It might be easier to accept the cursed memories if they didn’t so closely mirror the truth. There were plenty of lovely memories floating through his head from their time at the Dark Castle. How beautiful Belle had looked, pregnant with his child. The feel of Rowan's little foot kicking beneath Belle's belly. How Belle had let him hold her, love her, how he'd felt happiness for the first time since he'd lost Bae. But those memories were soured by what came after. What he'd done to her.

He felt nauseous, burying his head in his hands. Belle was alive, Rowan was happy and healthy, they were married. Everything worked out by some miraculous twist of fate. He had to focus on that. But there was no way he could share the truth of the matter with Belle. He knew she wanted nothing more than to remember her life with their daughter, but at what cost? He could spare her the painful truth. Rowan was still young, they had a lifetime to make more memories.

He stood, resolute in his decision. This was for the best. They would make new memories with Rowan, and he couldn’t wait to start.

When he arrived home a little later, Belle was seated in the living room, a large book open on her lap. She was so beautiful, so good. How could he have ever done the things his memories told him he had. How could he have ever doubted her for one moment?

“Rumple,” she exclaimed when she noticed him standing in the doorway. “Come and see what I found.”

Walking around the couch, he saw that the book she was holding was filled with pictures.

“It’s a photo album,” she said, her eyes brimming with tears. She lifted it up to show him a page with a photo of toddler Rowan with cake smeared across her face. Another picture showed her ripping into a large birthday present.

“This is her second birthday,” she smiled through her tears. “I wish I had been there.”

Rumple could remember celebrating 28 different 2nd birthdays, each one substantially the same as the last. Rowan had been frozen in time just like everyone else from the Enchanted Forest, cursed to spend decades as a baby.

Belle flipped the page to even more photos of Rowan. There were pictures of her playing in the yard, pictures of her eating ice cream, pictures of her with new toys and even one of her sitting astride a small pony. But in each and every one she was alone. No mother holding her close smiling along with her. No father holding her aloft on his shoulders. Mr. Gold had taken these pictures, and there was no one else in their life to take the camera.

The curse hadn’t been kind to Rowan. He only hoped she was too young to remember all the ways he’d already failed her.

“How did things go at the shop?” Belle asked, grabbing his hand. Rumple had to keep himself from flinching away at her touch. He didn’t deserve her love or kindness.

“Disappointing,” he said with a sigh. “I thought I’d found a way to unlock our memories but it proved worthless.”

Belle’s face crumpled for a moment, before she affixed a bright smile to her face.

“Well, you can try again tomorrow. I know you’ll find a way. At least now we know Rowan was with you during the curse,” she said, gesturing to the photo album. “She wasn’t locked up in the asylum with me or stuck with strangers like Jefferson’s daughter was.”

Rumple just nodded, trying to think of some way, any way to fix this. Forcing Belle to live through the pain of their new memories was unthinkable. But so was allowing her to go on without knowing their daughter. He had to find a compromise.

“She’s so wonderful, Rumple,” Belle said, drawing him from his reverie. “There’s so much of you in her. I swear there were times today where she said something or made a face that was exactly like you.”

“Poor dear,” he joked. “Where is my little princess?”

As if on cue, Rowan chose that moment to run into the living room at breakneck speed.

“Papa!” she cried, launching herself into Rumple’s arms. He caught the little girl easily, lifting her up on to his lap.

“Hello, sweetheart,” he smiled. “Were you a good girl for Mummy today?”

Rowan nodded solemnly before leaning forward to whisper loudly.

“Mommy is having trouble remembering stuff so I’m helping her.”

He glanced over at Belle, slightly shocked that she would have told Rowan the truth. She was still so young he’d thought they’d be able to fake it until he found a solution to their problem.

“She’s a perceptive one, our daughter,” Belle said with an indulgent smile. “She realized early on that there was something amiss.”

“You’re gonna fix her, right Papa?” Rowan pleaded, her brown eyes huge in her small face. His heart gave a tight squeeze. Her eyes were so much like her brother’s. What a terrible father he’d turned out to be twice over.

 "Of course, darling," he couldn't help but assure her. Because it wasn't just he and Belle anymore. Now he had Rowan to think about, and she would always come first. It wasn't just about Belle getting her memories, it was about Rowan getting her mother back.

If only he could find a way to restore the good while holding back the bad.

He knew implicitly that he was being a coward. But he feared the look in Belle's eyes if she remembered their new pasts. He'd hurt her so badly in their original timeline, and she'd forgiven him. Would he be so lucky this time? His actions in this new timeline made throwing her out over a kiss look like child's play.

Belle was very forgiving, but would she want to stay married to such a monster? Raise a child with a monster?

He held Rowan close, breathing in the sweet scent of her hair. There was no way he could risk this.

* * *

 

_Meanwhile, in the Enchanted Forest of the past..._

Belle had seen neither hide nor hair of Rumple in three days. Ever since their fight after the Queen had left, he'd made himself scarce. Part of her was glad for it. She was still angry with him, still hurt. She also felt a little embarrassed at her reaction. She knew Rumple hadn’t meant to reject her, but that’s how it had felt. She didn’t like being left behind in a cold bed, regardless of the reason.

The other part of her was miserable. To think they'd gone from sharing such intimacy to being more distant than ever. She loved him, of that she was certain, and with every hour that passed without Rumple she could feel her heart splintering a little more. If they didn't reconcile soon she was sure it would be completely broken.

She’d gone looking for him the day after their fight, thinking to apologize. But he still had those damned restrictions on the castle. He wasn’t in the main hall and he wasn’t in his bedroom. She assumed he’d probably hid away in his tower laboratory, but she unfortunately had no way of reaching him there. He’d deemed that room far too dangerous for her to frequent in her current state.

She supposed she could call on him, but she didn’t want to have to. She wanted him to seek her out, to know that she meant more to him than just the woman who had warmed his bed. But she’d stormed off on him so rudely that he probably thought she didn’t want his company. Nothing could have been further from the truth.

Rumple might not have been present, but his magic still was. Her meals appeared regularly, her bathtub filled with steaming water without a thought and her clothes were magically cleaned and laid out for her use every morning. Her needs were taken care of, but she was lonely. On the third morning without him, she’d almost worked up the courage to finally call for him and force him to speak to her when there was a tentative knock on her library door.

“Come in,” she called.

Rumple poked his head in looking as though he feared she might snap at him at any moment.

“How are you feeling?” he inquired politely, opening the door further but still not stepping inside the room.

“Fine,” Belle replied truthfully. Physically she was the picture of health. Her bruised heart was another matter.

“Good,” was his simple reply. “Good thing.”

They stared at each other for a long awkward moment, Belle sitting on her chaise lounge and Rumple standing stiffly in the doorway.

“I’m sorry,” they both spat out at the same time.

Belle giggled as a shy smile spread across Rumple’s face.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” he said, finally entering the room. “I should have explained myself. I didn’t think – I shouldn’t have left you without telling you why.”

“And I shouldn’t have said what I did,” she said with a shake of her head. “I know you don’t think of me that way.”

Rumple nodded. “I’m sorry I snapped at you. I was just so afraid, Belle. Regina is not a woman you want to expose weakness to.”

Belle started a bit at his words.

“Is that what I am?" she asked. "Your weakness?”

“Regina is a shark,” he clarified. “If she smells blood in the water she’ll devour you. And love is weakness.”

Belle ignored the cynical sentiment for the moment, choosing to focus on Rumple’s choice of word.

“Love?” she asked, her heart fluttering with hope unlike anything she’d ever felt. It was the moment of truth.

Rumple’s mouth hung open as if he hadn’t realized quite what he’d said. She could see a thousand different emotions at war in his large luminous eyes before he finally seemed to come to a decision.

“You have to know – you must know how I feel about you,” he stuttered out, his voice little more than a whisper.

Belle couldn’t help the ebullient feeling bubbling up in her chest. She felt as though she could fly if only she tried.

“After the other night, I assumed you liked me well enough,” she said coyly, blushing heavily. As well acquainted as their bodies were with each other, she didn’t think she’d ever feel comfortable speaking about it.

“I…I do like you,” he said, moving toward her slowly, haltingly, as if it was taking every fiber of his being not to turn away. “Very much.”

Belle smiled. It wasn’t “I love you,” but there would be time for that. They were still learning.

He reached her at long last, sitting on the chaise beside her. With infuriating calm, he slowly brought one hand up to delicately caress her curls, rubbing one lock of hair between his thumb and forefinger.

“My beautiful, brave Belle,” he whispered, his voice full of awe.

And she was brave, wasn’t she? Do the brave thing and bravery would follow. That’s what she’d told him once before.

“I love you, Rumplestiltskin,” the words rushing out of her before she could fully contemplate what they would mean, how they would change things between them.

His face was a mask of shock and fear and something tender that maybe, just maybe was love.

"Oh, Belle," he sighed, leaning forward ever so slightly.

She wanted nothing more than to grab him and kiss him. But she'd never done such a thing before. It seemed silly for her to feel tentative now, when she was visibly pregnant with his child. But this felt like something more than just their bodies' hunger for each other. It was pure and true, the brightest thing she could envision. She felt a ripple of something, that tangy ozone smell she'd come to associate with magic.

Their mouths were barely a breath away from each other, so close that she could feel his breath against her face, smell the warm, woodsy scent of him. He moved his hand from her hair to cup her cheek, tilting her face up to him. Her eyes slipped closed and then...

Nothing.

"Damn it," Rumple muttered, pulling away from her.

"What?" Belle asked, not even attempting to mask the disappointment in her voice.

"I'm so sorry, sweetheart," he said, taking her hand between his calloused ones. "I have to go. Someone is calling for me and it's vitally important I answer."

"Oh," Belle said, dejected. She was worried that if Rumple was left alone to his thoughts any progress they made today would be overwritten. He'd have time to retreat into himself, convince himself he was no good for her, that she couldn't possibly want him. She wouldn't let that happen. "Kiss me before you go?" she added sweetly.

Rumple looked torn, glancing from their joined hands, to her face, and back.

"I don't want to shortchange this moment, Belle," he replied, rubbing his thumb against the back of her hand. "But when I get back, I plan on kissing you senseless."

He smirked at her, dropping a quick kiss to her knuckles before standing.

"I may be gone for a few days," he said sadly. "I've lifted the restrictions on the castle. You can go wherever you like. It was...silly of me to be so overprotective."

Belle smiled, her heart so full she couldn't possibly imagine ever loving anyone more than the man in front of her and the child growing inside of her.

"I'll miss you," she called after him as he turned to leave.

He paused at the door, his cheeks coloring slightly. "I'll hurry home."

And then he was gone. Belle leaned back against the arm of her chaise, her heart pounding in her chest. She couldn't help the smile that spread across her face, or the squeal she let out as she buried her face against one of the pillows. She loved him, and he felt the same!

She wasn't sure how long she laid there stroking her hand against her stomach and daydreaming about her love, but she was brought back to reality by a resounding knock against the front door.

She sat up, wondering if she should answer it. Usually when Rumple was away, she would simply answer the door and tell whoever it was to call again. But now she was pregnant. After seeing Rumple's reaction to Queen Regina finding out about her pregnancy, she wondered if it was wise to let anyone else know. She wasn't ashamed of bearing his child, but he was right that she was now his "weakness". Rumplestiltskin had many enemies, enemies who would use her and her child against him.

She left the library, heading down the staircase toward the entrance hall. It wouldn't hurt to take a peek out the window and see who was there.

Wrapping her shawl tightly around herself, hoping to mask her pregnancy from any prying eyes, she parted the curtain and looked out onto the Dark Castle's wide front lawn.

With a gasp, she dropped the curtain and rushed to the front door throwing it open.

"Gaston!" she exclaimed, shocked to see her childhood friend. It was true she had no wish to ever marry Gaston, but she'd known him since she was a girl and seeing him now reminded her of how much she missed her family and friends back home.

"Belle!" he cried, dropping the sword he had held aloft to the ground. "You're alive!"

"Of course I am," she replied, confused. What kind of monster did they think Rumple was? And if they'd feared for her so greatly, why had no one volunteered to take her place as Rumple's caretaker? She wouldn't have had it any other way, but only her father had spoken to dissuade her from her decision.

"In truth I wasn't sure you would be," he said, glancing over her shoulder and into the entrance hall. "Where is the foul beast? I'll slay him where he stands."

Belle suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. Gaston had always had more bravado than sense. He'd held a sword on Rumple before and her love had merely slapped it away as if it were a child's toy. Did he honestly think he'd have better luck this time?

"You couldn't possibly," Belle stated. "And even if you could, I wouldn't let you. He's not a beast, Gaston. Now, would you like to come in for tea?"

Her former fiancé's eyes dropped back to her face before glancing worryingly back into the gloom of the castle.

"He's no here at the moment," she assured her old friend. "So you've nothing to worry about."

Gaston puffed out his chest. "I don't fear the Dark One," he bragged. "I merely thought of your safety should you be seen entertaining guests."

He bent down to retrieve his dropped sword, sheathing it smoothly before following Belle into the main hall. His eyes widened at the sight of Rumple's trophies and artifacts spread throughout the room.

She sat Gaston at the table, pouring them each a cup of tea from the pot Rumple left magically steaming for her use before sitting opposite him.

"Are you well, Belle?" Gaston asked, sipping at his tea. "Your father has been so worried."

"How is Papa?" she asked, latching on to news of her father. "I've missed him so much."

"He does as best he can, but losing you was a difficult blow," he replied. "Now that the ogres are gone, he's poured himself into the rebuilding of Avonlea. The kingdom is prosperous again thanks to your sacrifice."

Belle nodded, tears springing to her eyes. Her poor father couldn't possibly know how little of a sacrifice it had actually been. She'd thought to be locked in a castle for the rest of her days, never knowing love or adventure again. Instead she'd found both in Rumple. And soon she would be a mother as well. Perhaps she could send assurances to her father through Gaston.

"Please tell him how much I miss him," she said, reaching out take Gaston's free hand.

"Tell him yourself," he replied with a shrug.

"What do you mean?" she asked, confused.

"I mean to take you back with me, Belle," Gaston clarified, looking at her as though she were simple. "I'd thought to fight the Dark One to liberate you, but his absence makes this much easier. Come with me and you can see your father, see the rebuilding of Avonlea for yourself."

"I can't come with you, Gaston. I made a deal with Rumplestiltskin."

"We'll find a way to get you out of it," Gaston said, putting down his teacup and gripping her hand. "Your father has had his advisors pouring over the deal, there must be some loophole. You've been here over a year, Belle."

"It was my deal to make," Belle explained, shaking off his hand. "Even if there were a loophole, I wouldn't leave. I made a promise and I won't break it."

"Oh, Belle," Gaston shook his head condescendingly. "Always so brave. You needn't sacrifice your life to this monster."

"Believe me, it's no sacrifice and he's no monster. I'm staying and that's final."

The slightly bemused smile that had been playing along Gaston's face began to slip.

"You can't be serious, Belle. I'm telling you you're free to go."

"And I'm telling you I don't want to leave," she said slowly, as if she were explaining something complex to a small child.

"Are you afraid that living alone in this castle with that beast has tainted you?" Gaston asked. "I will still marry you, Belle, despite what others might say."

Belle felt slightly sick to her stomach, and not because of the pregnancy. The way Gaston spoke of marrying her, as though he would be doing her a favor. As though it would be noble of him to take her on after the disgrace of saving her people.

"I'm not worried about that, Gaston," she ground out. "And I don't want to marry you. I never did, you know that."

Gaston nodded stiffly. "Fine. You can live your days a spinster, but I'm still taking you back to your father."

He stood, pushing his chair back and rounding to her side of the table.

"Now come with me," he continued. "I won't ask again."

Belle threw her hands up, exasperated.

"I'm not going anywhere. If you continue to pester me, I'll be forced to ask you to leave."

Gaston reached out for her as if to throw her over his shoulder, when several things happened at once. No sooner had Gaston gripped her shoulder before he was thrown backward across the length of the room, landing near the oak doors with a crash. In the sudden melee he'd kept hold of her shawl, ripping it from her body and still had it gripped in his hand when he landed by the door.

Gaston sat up, shaking his head, dazed.

"What the devil..." he trailed off, seeing Belle fully for the first time without her shawl wrapped around her for camouflage.

"You're - you're...are you?" he sputtered.

Belle crossed her arms against her belly, but it was too late.

"He's defiled you!" Gaston yelled, pointing a shaking finger at her.

"No!" Belle said, with a shake of her head. "Gaston, I love him and he loves me."

"He's bewitched you!" the knight cried, looking increasingly hysterical. "You cannot love a monster, Belle! What am I supposed to tell your father?"

"Tell him the truth," she pleaded. "Tell him that I'm in love and happy. So much happier than I ever would have been back home."

Gaston shook his head, still staring at her wide eyed.

"I'll save you, Belle," he exclaimed, standing from his place on the floor. "We'll find a way to rid you of his spawn. You can come back home."

To hear her child spoken of so callously, that he would think to terminate her pregnancy with no thought for her or her baby, made Belle's blood boil.

"You must leave," she said firmly. The words had barely left her mouth before Gaston was dragged backward by some invisible hand into the entrance hall. Belle ran after him, shocked.

"Has he given you his powers?" Gaston asked frantically. "Are you a witch now?"

"No! It's the castle," Belle assumed. "It protects me."

Gaston shook his head. "I'll tell your father of this, Belle. We will save you!"

With that, he was dragged through the open front door, it slamming in his face once he was outside.

Belle dropped to her knees in the entrance hall, sobs wracking her body. Gaston was hysterical. There was no way he would convey the truth to her father. He would hear nothing more than the ravings of his knight, that Belle had been defiled, that she needed rescue. She wept not for herself, but for her poor papa who would fear for her now more than ever. Perhaps Rumple would let her write to him. Their original deal had been thoroughly compromised by their present relationship. She couldn't imagine Rumple would deny her anything.

She wiped the tears from her eyes, standing up and heading back to her tea with a new purpose. She would write to her father and assure him that all was well. Everything would be just fine.

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the present, Rumplestiltskin devises a plan to give Belle only good memories. Meanwhile in the past, an unexpected visitor makes Belle question Rumple's feelings for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one got dark. Trigger warning for blood and violence toward the end.

In the end, it was Lacey that had given him the idea. It was so simple once the thought came to him. Regina had proven it was possible to plant false memories in someone else's mind. It had been a necessary part of the Dark Curse, one she had utilized again when she'd given Belle a whole new personality after the pirate had shot her across the town line.

He had no wish to bring Lacey back into existence, but the idea was sound. He could enchant a totem, give Belle all the good memories of her life with Rowan while glossing over the bad. She would never need to know the whole of their history. He could make it more in line with what had happened in their original time line. Belle had left, Regina had kidnapped her and held her in a tower, convinced Rumplestiltskin that she was dead. The only thing that needed to change was that they had a daughter throughout it. He could give her back her memories of Rowan's birth, of their reunion in Storybrooke, of their brief moments as a family that had been all too fleeting over the years as they darted from one crisis to the next. There was no need for her to remember the things he had done, the monster that he really was.

Even as he enchanted the totem, he felt a stab of guilt. He was lying to her again. Belle deserved so much better than he would ever be able to give her. He'd almost convinced himself he had her best interest at heart, that he only wanted to spare her the pain of memories she could not change. But the truth was he was terrified of the way she would look at him if she did remember. The Belle and Rumplestiltskin in this new timeline had found each other again, had married and committed to raising their daughter together. But they were still so broken in so many ways. There was bitterness between them that did not exist in their original timeline. True Love was supposed to be the most powerful magic of all, but sometimes that magic faded.

"Rumple?" came Belle's voice from the stairs to the cellar. He quickly tossed a cloth over his enchanting table and magicked himself over to his wheel, the gentle creaking of the wood the only sound in his basement room.

A moment later his wife appeared, a silk bathrobe wrapped around her, her long chestnut curls damp from a shower. Gods she was beautiful.

"It's past midnight," she said, walking up behind him and placing her hands on his shoulders. He shivered under her touch, knowing he wasn't worthy of her kindness.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," he said, stilling the wheel with his fingers. "You know it's when I do my best thinking."

Belle came around him, settling herself on his lap as she carded her fingers through his hair.

"Well the wheel will still be here tomorrow," she said with a small smile. "I want our memories back as much as you do, but for now Rowan is sound asleep and my bed is very cold without my husband."

Rumple forced a smile, allowing Belle to pull him up and lead him out of the cellar and up to their room. Once the door closed behind them, Belle tugged at the belt of her robe revealing that she had nothing on underneath. She bit her lip playfully, pulling Rumple with her to the bed, and by gods he followed.

He was the worst sort of monster.

* * *

_The Enchanted Forest, 30 years prior._

Belle was by herself for another two days after Gaston’s visit. She knew Rumple said his business could take him away for some time, but she found herself getting lonely. He’d certainly gone out on long deals before, but their relationship was markedly different now and part of her wished he would rush back to be with her.

She was also hesitant to own up to the ball of nerves that had taken up residence in her stomach. She was afraid that the longer Rumple stayed away, the easier it would be for him to convince himself she didn’t really love him. Lying awake, alone in her cold empty bed, she worried that he was staying away on purpose. That perhaps he had changed his mind about his feelings for her and was avoiding seeing her again.

Belle tried to quash those feelings as they arose, but the more time she spent alone, the harder it was to ignore.

On the third day of Rumple’s absence, she’d had enough. There was no use in moping around the castle, especially now that Rumple had given her free rein once more. She had access to the grounds and it was a beautiful day. She didn’t think a little light gardening would have any negative impact on her pregnancy, and so she headed out at morning light, grabbing a trowel and some work gloves and setting about weeding the flower beds.

It was a losing battle. Autumn had arrived and winter wasn’t far off. Her flowers would be good and dead soon at any rate. But Belle had never been one to admit defeat and took the task in hand. It felt good to work with her hands, slight perspiration breaking out across her brow for the first time in weeks. She’d lived in luxury for most of her pregnancy, Rumple not allowing her to do even the slightest task. She’d found that a life of idleness was definitely not for her. As much as she loved to read, she’d grown almost bored of the activity when she wasn’t permitted to do much else.

She worked happily until mid-morning when her stomach decided to remind her that she was supposed to be eating for two. So she packed up her gardening tools, getting up from her knees with some difficulty.

“So he still has you doing manual labor, even in your current condition?” came a mocking voice from behind her.

Belle flinched at the sudden presence beside her.

“Regina,” she grimaced.

“Oh good!” the queen said cheerfully. “You know who I am. This will make things much easier.”

“How did you get in here?” Belle asked warily, stepping back from the queen with a protective hand over her belly. She couldn’t help but be reminded of Rumple’s words, that Regina would use both her and their child against him if she could. She suddenly felt clammy, despite the bright sunshine in the garden.

“Oh, I’m always welcome in this castle,” Regina said with an idle wave of her hand. “You see, Rumple and I go way back. I’ve been coming here for, well longer than a lady wants to admit.”

Belle could feel danger and malice rolling off the evil queen, despite her bright smile. But she had no power here. This was Belle’s home, the castle protected her, and Rumplestiltskin was always just one call away.

“Are you here to see Rumple?” Belle asked, hating the way her voice wavered slightly. “I’ll just go inside and fetch him for you.”

Belle motioned toward the castle, turning to head back to the safety of its walls when Regina’s voice stopped her.

“He’s not here,” she said with a laugh. “I can’t sense his magic. In fact, I’d say he’s been gone for days.”

Regina affected a pout, tapping one crimson lip with an equally blood red fingernail.

“I wonder what would draw him away for so long,” she said with mock innocence.

Belle felt as though the ground had disappeared beneath her feet. Whatever was keeping Rumple away, the queen was behind it. She was sure. Regina had lured him out in order to get to her.

She drew breath in preparation to call Rumple’s name, but before she could exhale, a phantom hand gripped her throat blocking the air from escaping her lungs.

“There’s no use calling for him, dear,” Regina said casually, as though choking pregnant housemaids was an every day occurrence for her. “He can’t hear you as long as I’m here.”

The hand around her throat vanished and Belle gasped, taking deep calming breaths to try to allay her fear. She was trapped.

“Now, don’t worry,” Regina continued. “I’m not going to hurt you. I just wanted to get a closer look and I knew that imp would never allow it.”

“What do you want from me?” Belle rasped out.

Regina spread her arms wide as if it should be obvious.

“You’re carrying the Dark One’s child, dear. That alone is noteworthy. Your _lover_ ,” she said the word sneeringly as though the idea disgusted her, “has been alive for centuries. He could have hundreds of children if he so wanted, but he’s never shown an interest until you. What makes you so special?”

Belle had no answer for her, so she stayed quiet.

Regina stared at her for a long minute, circling her like a cat stalking its prey. Belle held still, her arms crossed protectively over her stomach, glaring at the queen.

“Well you’re certainly a pretty little thing,” Regina said at long last. “But there’s nothing else remarkable about you. No magic to speak of, the daughter of a minor noble, you have no power and no influence. So why did he want you?”

“I volunteered to go with him,” Belle said resolutely. She knew if push came to shove she couldn’t overpower the queen, but that didn’t mean she had to sit back and take her abuse.

Regina’s eyebrows arched dramatically.

“Oh did you now?” she asked with a smile. “And why would you do something silly like that?”

“In return he saved my village from the ogres.”

“Well aren’t you the little heroine,” Regina said dismissively. “And was your pregnancy a part of the deal as well?”

“No,” Belle said with a shake of her head. “That just happened.”

Regina eyed her for another long moment before throwing her head back with a sharp laugh.

“You expect me to believe you fell into bed with _him_ because you wanted to?” she asked skeptically. “Tell me the truth. What did he give you in exchange for carrying his child?”

Belle just shook her head again. “Nothing. There was no deal. I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

The smile fell from Regina’s face at that, her eyes turning hard.

“Just what are you implying?”

“That you know nothing of love.”

Regina’s face went from anger to sadness in a flash so quick Belle almost missed it. Her eyes looked haunted, a rare glimpse of vulnerability behind the hard façade. But a second later the expression was replaced by malicious glee.

“You think he loves you?” Regina said, her eyes going slightly wild.

“I know he does,” she said assuredly. He loved her, she was carrying his child. "I also know you wouldn't dare to hurt me, because Rumple would hunt you down to the ends of the earth to save me."

“There’s something you should know about your precious Rumple,” Regina said, her nose scrunching up at the sorcerer’s name. “Once upon a time, he was a mere mortal like me or you. His magic is derived from a powerful curse, a curse that has enslaved him for centuries, a curse that can only be broken by one little thing.”

“What?” Belle asked, despite herself.

“True love’s kiss,” the queen sneered. “So you see, it’s quite impossible that he loves you.”

“I don’t understand,” Belle replied, trying to keep her voice from trembling.

“You’re pregnant with his child,” she said, with a nasty grin. “I imagine you’ve done much more than kiss. If he loved you, he’d no longer be the Dark One.”

“But we haven’t kissed,” Belle said truthfully. For all their intimacies, all the tender moments between them, her lips had never brushed his. It was a source of endless frustration. “Not that I remember anyway.”

“Kinky!” the queen said with an arched eyebrow.

“I just mean that your argument is invalid. Rumplestiltskin loves me, and I love him.”

“Perhaps,” the queen said, stepping away from Belle and giving her one last look up and down. “But you'd have to kiss him to know for sure. I don't envy you that, have you seen his teeth?"

Regina let out another of her mocking laughs. "I’ve learned all I need from you.”

With that, the queen vanished in a cloud of purplish black smoke, leaving nothing behind but the scent of her perfume.

Belle rushed back toward the castle, barricading the door behind her. If she ever had another visitor to the Dark Castle, it would be too soon.

* * *

When Rumplestiltskin still hadn’t returned the next day, Belle started to panic. Her visit from the queen had put her on edge. Regina could have been bluffing, but what if she’d done something to Rumple? Belle couldn’t imagine the most powerful sorcerer in all the realms ever being at the mercy of someone like the queen, but he’d been gone nearly a week. If something hadn’t happened to him, the alternative was that he really was avoiding her. She’d told him she loved him, but she couldn’t help but realize that he hadn’t said the same. He’d confessed to liking her, implied that his feelings were in line with her own. But he’d yet to say the words. What if she was just fooling herself?

Regina had said that if he truly loved her, her kiss would break his curse. Belle loved Rumple with all her heart, but she couldn't deny that there was something dark within him, an evil that had taken root attempting to choke out the good man she knew was also within him. To think that it could be something as simple as a curse! But then why had Rumple never mentioned it? Perhaps he didn't want True Love's Kiss. But Rumplestiltskin was a good man, of that Belle had no doubt. If a curse was what was afflicting him, how could he not want it broken? Perhaps he thought no one would ever truly love him.

Another thought bloomed in Belle's mind unbidden. She'd never kissed Rumple in recent memory, but she couldn't remember her daughter's conception. What if they had kissed then? Rumplestiltskin was clearly still the Dark One, so it must not have worked. Was that proof enough that he didn't love her? And more than any of that, how did she know Regina wasn't lying? Rumple had told her he'd once been an ordinary man. If only she could be sure that it was a curse that had changed him.

These thoughts were rushing around Belle's mind, driving her slowly insane as she waited for Rumple to reappear. She considered calling for him, finally giving in to her fear and yelling his name at the top of her lungs. But what if he truly was busy? She would hate to interrupt some important deal, the fate of the realms hanging in the balance, all because she needed to know if Rumplestiltskin loved her or not. It sounded so silly when she thought of it that way. But despite knowing she was overreacting, she couldn't help the panic rising in her chest. 

She knew stress couldn’t be good for the baby, so she attempted to mitigate it. A calming cup of tea, a warm bath, a thick book to read by the fire. But nothing seemed to take her mind off her love, and what could possibly be keeping him from her.

She finally gave up on her book, leaning back against her chaise and stroking her belly as she tried not to think about Rumple, when there was a loud banging on the front door.

She popped up as quickly as her ungainly form would allow and rushed down the stairs in hopes of seeing Rumple before realizing that he would hardly be inclined to knock on his own front door. She stopped in the entrance hall, eyeing the oak doors warily. Between her visits from Gaston and Queen Regina, she’d entertained more in Rumple’s absence than she ever had when he was in residence at the castle. It seemed every visitor these days was for her.

The banging came again, louder this time, as though something large was butting up against the doors.

Belle backed away instinctively. Whoever was outside wanted in desperately, but surely the castle would protect her, the way it had when Gaston had attempted to take her away. There was no chance the doors would give way.

She became less sure of her conviction when another thud came from outside, the heavy oak door seeming to groan under the weight of whatever was being thrust against it.

Perhaps Rumple’s magic only protected her from forces inside the castle? When Gaston had tried to take her, he’d been dragged away when she’d told him to leave.

“Leave me alone!” she gasped, closing her eyes and wrapping her arms around her belly.

The thudding ceased at once, and Belle breathed a sigh of relief. But her respite was short lived. A moment later the front door seemed to glow before bursting open with a shiver of white light. Belle squinted against the light, making out a hooded figure standing in the doorway with its arms stretched upward.

“Belle!” Gaston cried, pushing his way around the hooded figure and through the open door. “We’ve come to rescue you.”

Belle was so shocked she couldn’t even manage to roll her eyes at the well-meaning yet stubborn idiot.

“I told you I’m not in need of rescue,” she ground out, backing away from her former fiancé.

Gaston shook his head condescendingly.

“That’s your curse talking, sweetheart,” he said softly, as though he were speaking to an invalid. “Queen Regina told me about your conversation yesterday. It’s what convinced us to come so quickly.”

It was then that Belle realized Gaston and the hooded figure were not alone. Behind him were nearly a dozen other men in dark brown hoods that obscured their faces. _Clerics,_ she realized with a shiver. Wielders of so-called light magic, fanatical adherents to the old religion who’d taken it upon themselves to rid the world of anything deemed unclean. The closest cleric was staring at her from under his hood with gleaming eyes. She almost thought she saw a glint of a smile. This wasn’t a rescue. It was an exorcism.

“Gaston,” she pleaded, backing still further away as the clerics started to circle her. “Whatever Regina told you was a lie. Please, you must believe me. I’m not cursed.”

Gaston just arched an eyebrow at her.

“The queen said you’d say that,” he said pityingly. “She also told me she was able to break through the enchantment for a moment when she spoke to you yesterday. She told us what you said, Belle. That you pleaded with her to save you, to rid you of the abomination growing in your belly. Unfortunately her magic wasn’t powerful enough to cure you. But the combined might of the clerics should do the trick.”

Gaston gave a nod to the nearest cleric and he darted forward, grabbing her about the upper arm. Belle struggled, pulling back away from him, but his hand was like an iron vice. Then, as if batted by an invisible hand, the cleric went sailing backward, his back coming into contact with the entrance hall's large marble table with a sickening crack. Belle took the opportunity to rush around to the other side of the table, trying to put as much distance between herself and the clerics as possible.

“I told you!” Gaston was shouting. “The demon has given her some of his magic. She must be subdued!”

The cleric who’d been tossed aside seemed down for the count, but the others had rounded on her, approaching swiftly. One of them raised a hand toward her and Belle suddenly felt herself immobilized, her arms and legs snapping together until she was sure to topple over. Another cleric caught her about the chest before she could fall, his hands roaming over her body in a way that would have made her shudder with revulsion if she had the ability to move. No one but Rumple had ever touched her so intimately and it made her want to crawl out of her skin. She couldn't run, but luckily she still had her voice.

“Rumplestiltskin!” she screamed, as loud as she could. “Rumple --”

Her voice was cut off as a large, meaty hand collided with the side of her face. Stars danced before her eyes as pain exploded through her cheekbone and she would have collapsed if the other cleric hadn’t had a firm hold of her. The tangy, metallic taste of blood filled her mouth and she choked on it before a gag was hastily tied around her mouth. She hoped Rumple had heard her, she could do nothing more at the moment. Her head was throbbing from the blow, her thoughts clouding together.

She felt the cleric lift her, throwing her over his shoulder with no thought to her belly and the precious cargo within. They would kill her daughter, and there was nothing she could do. She was alone.

Belle felt suddenly weightless. She vaguely wondered if she was dying. If the hit she had taken had somehow scrambled her brain beyond repair. But a moment later she felt the cold marble of the entrance hall floor beneath her back, slick with something wet.

She sat up once she realized she could move once more. Pulling the gag from her mouth, she shook her head to try to collect her thoughts. That’s when she noticed the screaming. The entire hall seemed to echo with it. It reminded her of the sounds the dying soldiers made during the Ogres War. The sound of men who had been ripped limb from limb, bleeding out in the courtyard outside her father’s castle. Then something warm and wet sprayed across her face, pulling her back to the present.

The cleric who had fondled her was nowhere to be seen. Instead she was sitting in a puddle of something that looked suspiciously like blood. A lot of blood. Enough blood to fill an entire grown man. Belle watched with wide eyes as two clerics standing closest to her seemed to vanish on the spot, only to promptly be replaced by a pile of body parts she could only just identify.

The screams seemed to taper off one by one as each cleric was eviscerated, ripped to shreds in explosions of gore. If this was the castle’s magic, she wanted no part in it. It may have saved her child’s life, but she couldn’t condone this kind of violence. She just wanted them gone, not this!

Belle heaved, gagging and spitting, as the last scream was silenced, the final cleric falling to the floor with wide, unblinking eyes, half his body seeming to have been melted away like he’d been roasted over an open fire.

And that’s when she saw him, standing in the middle of the carnage, drenched in blood that was not his own. Her Rumple.

She’d never seen him as the fearsome legendary Dark One that parents warned their children about at night. He’d been her employer, then her friend, then her lover. But he’d never frightened her. Not until this moment.

She’d never seen him look so fearsome, his eyes wild, lit up with manic glee as he surveyed his destruction. His hands were twitching with unrestrained power as magic crackled from his fingertips, igniting and sparking.

“Rumple,” she whimpered.

He turned to look at her, his yellowed teeth barred in a nasty snarl, and Belle felt herself shrinking away from him for the first time. She was truly afraid.

He blinked, his eyes seeming to clear and then soften as he gazed at her. But a muffled sound behind him called his attention away.

“You’ll never have her, Dark One,” coughed Gaston. He was slumped against the far wall, battered but very much alive. “She was mine, and she will be again.”

Rumplestiltskin rounded on her childhood friend, a flick of his hand hoisting Gaston into a standing position and then higher, as though an invisible hand had caught him about the throat.

“Is that so, dearie?” Rumplestiltskin trilled in that awful sing-song voice of his. “I do believe the lady is mine. And you should know, no one steals from the Dark One.”

Gaston sputtered, his face turning a sickly shade of blue as he clawed at the air around his throat, searching for relief.

“Rumple,” Belle called, pushing herself up to stand and nearly slipping in the blood that seemed to be everywhere. “Please. Don’t.”

Rumple turned to look at her, cocking his head slightly.

“He hurt you,” he said simply. Then, with a simple twitch of Rumplestiltskin's fingers, Gaston’s neck twisted at an unnatural angle, his limbs spasming around him before his body slumped to the floor in a heap.

“No!” Belle cried, reaching her hands out uselessly to where Gaston’s body lay. But the light in his dark eyes had been extinguished.

Belle slumped back to the ground, the swirling darkness that had been threatening to claim her since the cleric hit her, finally overwhelming. She was vaguely aware of strong arms wrapping around her. Then all was darkness.   


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Past Belle comes to terms with the realization that she might not know Rumple as well as she'd thought. Meanwhile the Present Rumple and Belle have a long overdue conversation.

Note: Rowan's reference to "wrestling" comes from a couple of one shots posted on tumblr which you can find [here](http://thatravenclawbitch.tumblr.com/post/94590527319/time-travel-remix-prompt-rumple-and-belle-start-to) and [here](http://thatravenclawbitch.tumblr.com/post/94636631094/curiouser-and-curiouser-i-know-this-sounds-so-wrong).

* * *

Time had lost all meaning. Belle felt weightless, like she was floating on a cloud, strange images invading her mind but never staying long enough to make an impression. She vaguely thought she heard Rumplestiltskin’s voice, but that was impossible. He had left. It could have been days or years before, but she knew he hadn’t returned.

She felt as though she were lost, trapped somewhere between awaking and dreaming, but she was just so comfortable she couldn’t be bothered to enter one state or the other. She was happy here, warm and content. Awake was bad. Awake was harsh. If she woke up, she’d have to face the swirling images that she didn’t want to see.

So she continued floating.

She gradually became aware of something tugging at her. She tried to shake it off, but it was persistent. Something had hold of her shoulder and wouldn’t let go.

“Sweetheart, please,” she heard a rough voice. “Wake up, darling.”

Belle opened her eyes just a smidge before slamming them shut again. She didn’t want to be awake. She drifted off on her cloud, becoming weightless once more. There was nothing that could hurt her in dreams. Dreams were safe.

Minutes or decades late, she awoke to warm sunlight falling across her face, and opened her eyes cautiously. As the room came into view, she was startled to realize she was in Rumple’s bed. She couldn’t remember falling asleep here. In fact, the last thing she remembered was sitting in her library, consumed with worry about what was keeping the sorcerer away. Had she been so lonesome for Rumple that she put herself to sleep in his room?

She blinked, trying to clear her thoughts. From the position of the sun outside the open window, it was midday, but sitting up seemed like a Herculean effort. How long had she been asleep?

With some difficulty, she rolled her head to the side to be met with a most unusual sight. Rumplestiltskin was asleep in the chair next to the bed, his head bent forward at an uncomfortable angle, his chin resting against his chest. Until this point, Belle wasn’t even sure if he actually slept.

He looked awful. His hair was dry and brittle, sticking out at odd angles. Even in sleep his face looked strained, and impossibly, he seemed even thinner than the last time she’d seen him. Whatever deal had kept him away so long must have worn him out. That still didn't explain why she was in his bed, though.

She attempted to sit up, but her head throbbed and she fell back against the pillows with a weak grunt. 

"Belle!" Rumple startled awake, popping up from the chair and sitting on the edge of the bed. "Sweetheart, are you alright?"

"What happened?" she managed to rasp out. Her throat felt dry, her voice hoarse from disuse. "Why am I here?"

"You've been asleep for over a week, darling," he replied, trailing his fingertips over her head and neck as the shiver of magic ran through her. "You suffered a concussion, a shattered cheekbone, some other bumps and bruises, but you're fine now. My magic kept you sedated so you could heal." 

A concussion? Suddenly Belle's mind was flooded with images. There was blood, screaming, the clerics being ripped apart by Rumple's magic. And finally, Gaston. Poor, simple Gaston, his unblinking eyes staring at her from his pale face, his neck turned at an unnatural angle.

"You killed them!" she gasped, backing away from Rumplestiltskin as best she could. Along with the images of the carnage in the entry hall, returned the feelings of fear that had shot through her at the sight of her imp, the cause of so much death and destruction. 

"Sweetheart, please lay still," he pleaded, his hands hovering around her but not quite touching. "You've been through an ordeal and my magic can only do so much."

"The baby!" Belle exclaimed. Looking down she was relieved to see her swollen stomach beneath her nightgown.

"She's fine," Rumple assured her. "She's very upset about her mama being batted about, but she's fine. She's a fighter, Belle."

The relief she felt at his words lasted only a moment before her mind was once again consumed by those awful images. She shuddered, feeling the tears well up in her eyes.

"You murdered them," she managed to rasp out. "You killed them all."

"I had to, sweetheart," he said placatingly. But Belle refused to believe that was true.

"You didn't have to do anything," she cried. "You became another person. It was like you enjoyed it!"

Rumple's face immediately closed off, going from doting father-to-be to imperious Dark One in a matter of seconds.

"I did what was necessary," he said in a low voice.

"Necessary?" Belle gasped, managing to push herself all the way up and lean against the headboard. "You were brutal! You didn't even give them a chance."

"They would have killed our daughter, Belle," he growled. "They would have tortured you, murdered our child, taken you against your will. I could not let that stand!"

Belle just shook her head. "You have so much magic at your disposal. You're telling me you couldn't have banished them? Turned them into birds and made them fly away? You couldn't have spared their lives and protected me at the same time?"

"They deserved to die!" he cried, standing and strutting about the room. "They broke into _my_ home, they hurt the mother of _my_ child. No one takes from the Dark One, dearie."

Belle looked at him, stunned. He hadn't called her that in months, but beyond that it was what he had said right before he'd murdered Gaston.

"Gaston was my friend," she said tremulously. "You had him subdued but you still killed him in cold blood."

"Ah, yes, your precious fiancé," he said with a mocking flourish. "Your knight in shining armor come to rescue you from the beast."

Belle felt nauseous. Was he actually jealous of a man he'd just murdered?

"I never loved Gaston," she said quietly. She'd only ever loved one man, the frightening one standing before her right now. "It was an arranged marriage. But I'd known him my whole life. He was my friend."

"A friend who would have split you open and carved your baby out of your stomach," Rumple snarled.

"I can't believe that," she said, shaking her head again. "He was mistaken, but he wouldn't have done something so barbaric."

"Then you're a fool," Rumple replied quietly, his anger cooling to a simmer. "You're bound to the Dark One, dear. You have no friends anymore."

"I can't condone murder, Rumplestiltskin."

"Then it appears we've reached an impasse," he said, folding his anxious hands in front of him. "I won't apologize for protecting what is mine."

Belle felt nauseous, her head ached and her entire body felt heavy and sluggish. She wanted nothing more than to be left alone to wallow in her misery. But part of her remembered how she'd felt in that week without Rumple, how much she'd missed him. Now he was here and she wanted nothing more than for him to leave. How could everything have turned on it's ear so quickly?

"You should get some rest. Call on me, if you need anything," he said half-heartedly. And then her turned and left the room.

Once he was gone, Belle let the tears fall. She'd never felt more confused or conflicted in her life. She knew, rationally, that Rumplestiltskin was the Dark One. She knew his reputation, that he was capable of terrible things. She'd even seen him torture Robin Hood first hand. But since then he'd become her friend, and then more. And these past few months he'd been so wonderful. How could she reconcile the man who brought her pineapples, whose face lit up whenever he felt their child kick, who touched her so reverently as though he couldn't believe he was allowed the privilege, and always worried about her being cold with the man who could snap Gaston's neck with a twitch of his fingers?

She knew Rumple would never hurt her or their daughter if he was in his right mind. But the man she'd seen take on the clerics hadn't been in his right mind. He was bloodthirsty and crazed, the magic that coursed through his veins consuming him and taking over. It frightened her in ways she didn't wish to fully examine at the moment.

And that's when the thought took her. A seed planted at the back of her mind and left to grow over the intervening days. Perhaps Regina had been right, that his power was derived from a curse. She was hesitant to believe anything that came from the Queen's mouth, especially after Gaston's admission that she'd been the impetus behind his attempted "rescue". But if Rumple really was cursed, it could be within her power to save him.

She wasn't sure if it would work. She couldn't remember kissing Rumple, but that didn't mean it hadn't happened. But what did she have to lose? If she kissed him and the curse held, it would mean they weren't true love or else that Regina had lied. If it did work, he would be free. The darkness would be chased away. They could be together, raise their daughter as a family, free from the shadow his being the Dark One cast. Above all, she wouldn't have to worry for herself and her child. She would no longer fear his volatile moods, the fact that he could do so much harm with hardly a thought.

Belle leaned back against the pillows, coming to her decision.

He had saved her from the clerics. It was her turn to save him from himself.  

* * *

_Present Day..._

Try as he might, Rumplestiltskin couldn't fall asleep. Belle had dragged him away from his cellar, done an admirable job of attempting to wear him out and then fallen asleep curled against his side. Despite his body's exhaustion, comfortable and sated and with his very gorgeous and very naked wife beside him, Rumple's guilty conscience wouldn't allow him the comfort of sleep.

It would be so easy to feed Belle yet another lie. To let her think he'd done nothing wrong, that he was blameless in their new history. But the idea of deceiving her so completely ate at him. He'd never have another moments rest, constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop. He couldn't live his life that way. Belle may not forgive him for what he'd done, but if he hid the truth from her and she found out anyway she'd never want to see him again.

He had to tell her the truth.

As soon as he thought the words, the knot of worry he'd carried around in his stomach for the past few days seemed to lessen. They would deal with their pasts together, they would heal together. Just because their relationship had been somewhat strained in this timeline didn't mean it had to stay that way. Now they had two timelines worth of experiences together, and adversity had only ever made their love stronger. For the first time in days, Rumplestiltskin felt something like optimism.

Beside him, Belle whined in her sleep, rolling away from him and tossing away the blankets.

"No," she moaned, burying her face against her pillow, a low keening noise coming from her throat.

"Belle," he said, reaching out a hand to touch her shoulder. "Sweetheart it's just a dream."

"No," she said again, this time louder and more firmly. "Please, no!"

"Belle," he grabbed her, rolling her onto her back and shaking her firmly. "Wake up, darling."

Belle's eyes snapped open suddenly, then immediately filled with tears.

"Rumple?" she gasped.

"I'm here, sweetheart. It was just a nightmare."

She sat up, latching her arms around his neck as she sobbed against his chest.

Rumple rubbed her back soothingly, letting her cry. Neither he nor Belle were strangers to nightmares. After her time in the asylum she had frequently awoken in the dead of night, shuddering and crying. She’d gone through so much in her short life, all because of him.

"It was awful,” Belle said at long last, pulling back and resting her head against his shoulder. “I was holding Rowan, but she was a baby. She was just a tiny little thing, barely more than a newborn. She was so, so beautiful, Rumple. And then something was taking her away from me. I clawed and screamed and fought, but I couldn't get her back. Someone pulled her out of my arms and I was helpless. I couldn't do anything to get her back!”

Belle gasped, the tears streaming down her cheeks once more.

“It felt so real, Rumple,” she continued. “Do you think it was a memory? Did Regina take her away from me?”

His hand froze against her back, his body immediately tensing at her question. He’d wondered if the timeline would catch up to them eventually, if the memories would find them. It seemed the process had begun. His good intentions were for nothing if Belle would remember anyway.

“Perhaps,” he whispered against her hair, the cowardly part of him wishing she would abandon her questions and go back to sleep. But he knew his wife too well for that.

“If Regina took Rowan from me, then how did she wind up with you during the curse?” she asked, sitting up and looking at him. “Why would Regina let you have her?”

Rumplestiltskin could swear he felt his heart stutter to a stop. Not now, please not now. He wasn’t ready to lose her.

“Rumple,” she said, her voice taking on a slightly pleading tone.

"A burst of altruism on her part?" he said with a shrug, but he knew Belle didn't buy it. He was sure the answer to her question was written all over his face. She knew, oh gods she knew.

“You…you remember don’t you?”

He couldn’t look at her, couldn’t see the disappointment in her eyes, so he stared down at the cream colored sheet covering his lap instead.

“Answer me!” she yelled.

“Belle,” he pleaded, his eyes finally snapping up to her face. “Please, don’t…Regina didn't...” he trailed off, staring at a place in the middle of her forehead so he wouldn't have to look her in the eye. "Don't make me say it." 

“Oh gods,” she gasped, covering her mouth with one trembling hand. “It was you. It wasn’t Regina at all. You took her from me.”

“Sweetheart –”

“Didn’t you!” she demanded

“Yes,” he whispered roughly, the tears pooling in his own eyes.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to lose you again,” he said, reaching for her. But Belle pulled away, standing from the bed and pulling her robe on hastily.

“So you lied.”

“I didn’t lie,” he started, regretting his words almost immediately.

“You lied by omission, Rumple,” she cried. “You let me go on for days in the dark when I could have had my memories, I could have had my life with my daughter!”

“I was trying to spare you,” he said, pleading with her to understand. “The things I remember, Belle, they aren’t pleasant.”

“You were trying to spare yourself,” she countered. “You knew what you had done and you didn’t want me to find out!”

“Can you blame me? I come back to this new timeline to find I’m an even worse monster than I was in the original! That I threw you out, separated a mother from her child, I was cruel to you! You missed the first three years of our daughter’s life because of me!”

“Mommy!” came a little voice from just outside their door. “Are you guys wrestling again?”

“No,” Belle answered firmly. “We most definitely are not.”

“Are you guys fighting?”

Belle dropped her head into her hands with a shuddering breath.

“Papa?” came Rowan’s voice through the door again, this time accompanied by the rattling of the doorknob, which they’d finally learned to lock.

“I’ll go put her back to bed,” Rumple said, pulling on a pair of pajama pants.

“No!” Belle exclaimed, her eyes suddenly fearful. “No. I don’t want you going anywhere near my daughter right now. I’ll do it.”

He felt her words like a knife through his chest, stealing the breath from his lungs and splitting his heart in two. It was nothing more than he deserved. He sat back on the bed as he watched Belle hurry out of the room to tuck Rowan back in. It was already happening. Belle would leave, she would take Rowan with her, and he would be alone. He tried to numb himself to it. He was used to being alone, after all. But no matter how hard he tried, it felt as though his entire being was collapsing in on itself. Soon he would be nothing more than a pile of dust.

Belle returned a few minutes later, shutting door behind her. Well, at least she hadn’t left yet.

“Soundproof the room.”

“What?” he asked, confused. “Why?”

“Because I’m going to call you some absolutely terrible things and I don’t want our daughter to hear it.”

Well, at least Rowan was back to being “ours” instead of “hers”. He waved his hand, the walls glimmering for a moment as the magic pulsed through them.

“You goddamn fucking asshole!” Belle yelled as soon as the enchantment had finished. “You lying bastard!”

Rumple flinched against the onslaught of her anger. He’d never actually heard Belle swear like that before. He’d never seen her this livid.

“Why?” Belle asked angrily. “Why didn’t you tell me you remembered?”

“I already told you –”

“The truth, Rumplestiltskin,” she demanded.

“I didn’t want you to look at me the way you are now,” he said honestly. “I didn’t want lose your trust and your love.”

Belle threw her hands up in exasperation, pacing along the foot of the bed.

“I’m angry,” she said needlessly. “I’m livid. I’ve never been more upset with you. But for gods’ sake, Rumple, don’t you know me better than that?”

“What do you mean?”

“I will always love you,” she cried. “You’re a bastard and you make terrible choices and I can generally count on you to do the selfish thing, but that’s not all there is to you. And whatever happened in our pasts, that’s not the man you are anymore. That’s not even the man you were then in our real timeline. Obviously my counterpart in this timeline forgave you, so why would you think that I wouldn’t? I’m far more angry at you keeping secrets from me than I could be about anything you did in a past we didn’t even live!”

“It was still me, Belle," he countered. "The man we spent last week with, the one who was rude and awful, that’s still me. I was capable of the things he did. He valued magic and power over the mother of his own child! I didn’t want you to have to remember that, to know that you were bound to a monster.”

“And you just made that decision for me,” she said, shaking her head. “You didn’t even think to give me the opportunity to choose whether I wanted those memories or not.”

Rumple sighed, raking a hand through his hair.

“I was going to tell you,” he said uselessly. “I’d made the decision to do it, not that I can convince you of that now. It’s been eating me up inside, Belle. To know that I could be that cruel, that callous to you, as much as you might hate me when you get your memories back in full it will be nothing to how much I hate myself.”

Belle stared at him for a long moment, the anger seeming to seep out of her a bit leaving nothing but sadness.

“Why?” she asked. “Why did he – you – do it? I don’t remember so I need you to tell me, please.”

“I can do one better than that,” Rumplestiltskin said miserably as the dream catcher from his shop materialized in his hand. “I can show you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the next chapter, we finally see what happened between Rumple and Belle in the past and Belle's reaction in the present.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the past, Belle tries to figure out how to go about breaking Rumple’s curse before the baby arrives. In the present, Belle’s reaction to her memories isn’t what Rumple expected.

Belle was bedridden for another week. The morning after she woke from her magically induced coma, she’d found blood on her underthings. A panicked call to Rumplestiltskin had her bundled back in to the bed and a midwife summoned.

Mrs. Potts was an amiable woman, if a bit wary of tending to the Dark One’s consort. Rumplestiltskin had been responsible for saving her son some years prior and she still owed him a debt, one that he was apparently collecting now.

The midwife assured Belle that a little light spotting was nothing to be overly concerned about and that the baby was doing fine. But she insisted that Belle stay in bed for the foreseeable future to keep strain off the pregnancy. She wasn’t due for another several weeks and the idea of spending all that time in bed was torturous to consider. But Belle figured the health of her child was paramount. She could certainly suffer through boredom if it meant a healthy baby.

But the bed rest gave Belle time to stew. Rumplestiltskin was tiptoeing around her. She wasn’t sure if he was angry with her or afraid of her, but his silence was wearing on her nerves. She knew he thought he was justified in protecting her, but Belle couldn’t condone murder no matter what the cause. Beyond that, she was afraid to raise a child with someone who could kill so gleefully. She loved Rumplestiltskin, but the Dark One frightened her.

She’d gone over Regina’s words in her head time and time again and the more she thought about it, the more it made sense. The man she knew was kind and gentle. The man she knew loved her and their unborn child. The man she knew would not callously kill someone in cold blood. The only way she could reconcile the two halves of the man she loved was to admit that he was cursed.

And any curse could be broken. 

Now Belle was faced with how to best go about testing her theory. She was confined to bed, Rumplestiltskin would barely meet her eyes. These were not conducive circumstances to kissing him. On top of that, she was still so angry that she didn't much want to kiss him. Would True Love's Kiss even work? Should she feel so much simmering anger and confusion for a man she loved unconditionally? 

So the days stretched on and Belle grew more and more miserable. Her belly was becoming unwieldy and the day she had to summon Rumplestiltskin to help her to the chamber pot was new low. She had always looked forward to the birth of their daughter, but as time went on she was becoming impatient for it. At the same time, she knew she had to break Rumple's curse before the baby arrived. She owed that much to her child. 

Rumplestiltskin had set up Mrs. Potts with a house in the village nearby so she’d be close once Belle went in to labor, and she made weekly visits to check on Belle's progress. 

"It won't be long now," the woman said briskly after examining Belle one afternoon, crossing the bedroom to wash her hands in the washbasin. "Your water could break any day now and then the labor will start."

Belle swallowed nervously. She wanted the baby born, but she was afraid of the unknown. All she knew of childbirth from the medical texts in her library was that it would be painful and many women died in the process. She had to be brave.

"Don't worry," Mrs. Potts continued at the look of fear that must have crossed Belle's face. "I'll be here the whole time to help you through it. And that man of yours has enough magic to keep anything dreadful from happening. Not that I condone that, mind. A man has no place in a birthing room and neither does magic, even if he is the Dark One."

Belle nodded, rubbing her hands against her belly and feeling her daughter's little kicks against her hand. "Will it hurt very badly?" she asked, hating how timid her voice sounded.

"I won't lie to you child," the older woman replied. "It's not easy. But nothing worth having ever is."

And that was the truth, wasn't it? Childbirth wouldn't be easy, but her baby was worth it. Loving Rumplestiltskin wasn't easy, but he was worth it. Belle set her jaw coming to a decision. She loved Rumple and she loved her child. She wanted them to be a family. In order for that to happen, she had to free Rumple from his curse. 

An opportunity presented itself later that same night. Mrs. Potts had retired to the village for the evening, Belle was idly flipping through books in bed without absorbing much of what she was reading. She vaguely wondered where Rumple had been sleeping now that she’d effectively commandeered his room. She was considering whether she should ask to move back to her own room when there was a light knock on the door.

“Come in,” Belle said, closing her book and tossing it down to the foot of the bed.

Rumplestiltskin entered with a tea tray clutched in his hands, the china rattling slightly as he carried it to her side table and set it down.

“Tea?” he asked uselessly.

“Yes, please,” Belle replied. Rumple busied himself pouring the tea and adding two lumps of sugar, just how she liked it, before pressing the cup into her outstretched hands. She couldn’t help but notice that he didn’t prepare a cup for himself.

“Won’t you join me?” she asked after he began to retreat to the open doorway. If they were ever going to live together in harmony again they had to start talking.

Rumplestiltskin froze, staring at her for a long moment, before he gave an imperceptible nod of his head. A second later the chipped cup had materialized in his hand and he poured himself some tea. He gazed around for a moment looking lost before sitting down stiffly in the chair next to her bed; the same chair he’d slept in by her side when she’d been in a coma.

Rumple might be coarse and unrefined. He might be prone to outbursts, a terrifying thought with his uncontrollable magic. But Belle didn’t doubt that he loved her. The realization gave her strength.

“How are you?” she asked. She’d missed their conversations. They’d barely spoken to each other since their fight.

“Fine,” he replied, eyeing her oddly. He took a long sip of tea before setting his cup down on the tray and leaning forward slightly. “And you?”

Belle had to stifle a laugh. She gestured at her belly. “Ready to meet our daughter.”

“Yes,” Rumple agreed, a smile almost crossing his lips before it died. He stood up, walking to the end of her bed and bracing a hand against the bedpost.

"I'm sorry I frightened you," he said stiffly, his back still turned from her. Belle set her own cup down on the tea tray, biting her lip at Rumple’s apology.

"It was more than that," she said finally, getting up from the bed with some trouble and crossing the room toward him. "You weren't yourself. In that moment, I didn't recognize you."

Rumple's eye twitched, the fingers of his free hand rubbing together nervously. 

"I'm the Dark One, dearie," he said, but there was no venom in his words. "You knew that."

"No," Belle said, grabbing Rumple's agitated hands between her own effectively stilling them. "You're more than that."

His eyes finally met hers, open and raw. Despite their reptilian appearance he looked so very human. "Am I?"

"Yes," she breathed, gripping his hands tighter. This was the moment of truth, she could lean in and kiss him and know for sure. She could break his curse. "You're my Rumple."

"Oh, Belle," he sighed, his hand coming to cup her cheek. "Beautiful Belle. Why do you have such faith in me?"

Belle couldn't help the smile that spread across her face. "Because despite your infuriating behavior, despite your best efforts, I love you."

That look of wonder crossed his face, the one that told her he couldn't quite believe what she was saying, despite all the evidence to back up her words. He always seemed so shocked that someone could care for him. 

"And I..." he began, but he was cut off by Belle's startled gasp. “What’s wrong?”

Belle stumbled back, glancing down at her now sodden nightgown.

“My water broke.”

* * *

Labor, Belle decided, was hell.

After her water had broken, Rumple was suddenly a flurry of activity. Belle found herself back in the bed in a dry nightgown and only moments later a very confused looking Mrs. Potts appeared in the middle of the room.

“Her water broke,” Rumple stated, pointing at Belle where she was seated on the bed. Mrs. Potts turned an eye on him, muttering something about _men_ beneath her breath as she went to check on Belle.

Mrs. Potts’ observation that the baby would come once her water broke was optimistic at best. It was almost dawn by the time Belle’s contractions were coming close together. She grit her teeth as best she could, struggling through the pain. Rumple looked like he might faint at any moment and she didn’t want to cause him more stress with her screaming.

“More water and towels,” Mrs. Potts barked at Rumple, and he rushed off to obey her as though the Dark One was given orders in his own home any day of the week.

Mrs. Potts just rolled her eyes. “Let it out, dear,” she told Belle. “No use rupturing something because you’re too afraid to cry out. He can handle it.”

Belle grabbed hold of the bedding as the next contraction ripped through her, screaming out her pain. As if summoned, Rumple appeared in the doorway, his green-gold skin suddenly ashen.

“Belle,” he cried, rushing to her side despite Mrs. Potts’ protests. He dropped to his knees beside the bed, smoothing her sweaty tresses from her brow. “You’re doing so well, sweetheart,” he cooed. “You’re so brave.”

“It hurts, Rumple,” she whimpered, feeling the strength leave her in the lull between contractions.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, gripping her hand in his. Belle was sure she could see tears in his eyes before he looked down. “I’m so sorry I did this to you.”

Belle wanted to smack him. She wanted to tell him he was an idiot. She wanted to kiss him and break this damn curse before her child came screaming into the world. But there was no time for any of that before the next contraction started and she doubled over in pain, gripping Rumple’s hand so tightly she thought she could hear the bones creak.

“All right, Belle,” came Mrs. Potts’ stern voice from between her legs. “It’s time to push.”

They were the last words that Belle heard that made any sense at all before her world was consumed in a haze of pain and confusion. She pushed when Mrs. Potts told her to. She cried for it to stop. She held on to Rumple’s hand, the one thing tethering to the world outside of her own pain. She was aware of him beside her, murmuring soothing things against her ear though she couldn’t process any of them. And then, a single high-pitched wail cut through everything.

“It’s a girl,” Mrs. Potts said, wrapping the wrinkly, pink baby in a blanket and settling her against Belle’s chest.

“She’s so beautiful,” Belle cried, looking down at her daughter. Her eyes were shut tight against the light in the room, her little fists struggling to break free of Mrs. Potts’ swaddling. A thatch of dark hair stuck up from her little head.

“Thank you, Belle,” Rumple gasped from beside her, reaching a hand out tremulously before running it gently down the baby’s back. “Thank you so much.” 

“Hello, Rowan,” Belle cooed at the baby who blinked up at her with dark blue eyes. “I’m your Mama. And this,” she said, shifting the baby to look toward Rumple, “is your Papa.”

“Hello, Rowan,” Rumple echoed her. “You’re just as pretty as your Mama.”

Mrs. Potts coughed uncomfortably from the end of the bed.

“I’ll just give you two a moment then, shall I?” she said, bundling up the soiled linens before leaving the room.

It could have been ages that they sat there staring at their child. She was so perfect. Ten fingers and ten toes, soft pink skin, little button nose. No one would ever know her father was the fearsome Dark One just by looking at her.

The Dark One in question had somehow managed to find his way onto the bed next to Belle, wrapping his arms around her and their newborn child. Belle was so tired. Her whole body hurt. She’d been up all night working to bring Rowan into the world. But now she was warm in Rumple’s arms, with her daughter at her breast. She felt her eyes drifting shut.

“She looks like you,” Rumple said softly, running a finger down Rowan’s plump little cheek.

“Hmm,” Belle murmured sleepily. “I think it’s a bit early to tell. She might yet have your nose.”

“Gods forbid,” Rumple snorted.

Belle let her head slump against Rumple’s shoulder. “It’s a nice nose. She could do worse.”

Rumple chuckled, his chest rumbling against her. She was content here with him. If he could only be this man always.

She must have drifted off because she startled awake when she felt something tug Rowan from her arms. She tightened her grip on her daughter instinctively.

“It’s alright, sweetheart,” Rumple whispered. “I’m just moving her to the bassinet. You should get some rest.”

Belle reluctantly relinquished her hold on her daughter, watching as Rumple carried the tiny bundle over to a bassinet placed next to the bed. He pressed a kiss to her little forehead before settling her down to sleep. Then he joined Belle back on the bed.

“Rest, darling,” he said again, pulling her into his arms until her head settled over his heart, the steady thrumming lulling her back into unconsciousness. His hands played in her hair, his soft breaths comforting.

"Marry me," he whispered against her hair. Belle’s eyes flew open at his words, suddenly she was wide awake.

“What?” she gasped.

A look of panic crossed Rumple’s face as he began to stutter. “Forget it. I shouldn’t have…”

Belle cut him off with a finger pressed to his lips.

“Ask me again now that you know I’m awake.”

He looked down at his hands, fidgeting awkwardly.

“Belle,” he said sheepishly. “Will you marry me?”

Her heart did a somersault inside her chest. Rumple wanted to marry her, to be a proper family. She didn’t need to be his wife to feel that way, but there was something endearing about the fact that he wanted it. Rumple always seemed so contrite about tying her to him through her pregnancy. But now he was openly asking her to be a part of his life instead of acting like she’d been forced into something she’d never agree to.

“On one condition," she said with a smile. A flicker of something crossed Rumple's eyes, something she couldn't define, but just as soon it was gone.

"Anything," he said, a line forming between his brows with worry.

"Kiss me?" she asked.

A bewildered smile broke across Rumple's face, his strange eyes lighting up. "Of course."

He bent his head toward hers slowly, tentatively. Her eyes slipped shut, waiting.

A moment later she felt the slight pressure of his lips against hers. They were soft and warm, brushing over her own almost hesitantly. She felt a strange tingle across her skin, different from the magic she felt before, but undeniably there.

It was working.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, attempting to deepen the kiss, but Rumple pulled back from her.

“What’s happening?” he asked, shaking his head confusedly. Belle stared in amazement as the flesh around his lips seemed to shimmer and change spreading outward from the point of contact leaving pink, human skin in its wake.

“Kiss me again,” she sighed. “It’s working.”

“What is?” Rumple asked, looking up at her with chocolate brown eyes. The most beautiful eyes she’d ever seen.

Belle ran her hands through Rumple’s brown hair that seemed to be straightening beneath her very fingers. She leaned forward to kiss him again. She wasn’t sure if it was her exhaustion or her elation at the proof of their true love, but then she said something she would live to regret for years to come.

“Regina was right,” she sighed.

Rumple tensed beneath her hands, pushing away from her and up off the bed.

“What did you say?” he snarled as the grey-green flesh of his face began to encroach once again, wiping out the traces of the man she'd seen beneath.

“True Love’s Kiss,” Belle replied, her arms still outstretched to where Rumple had so recently been. “Any curse can be broken. Even yours.”

“Did Regina tell you that?” he demanded.

“What does it matter?” Belle asked confusedly. “It was working. That means we’re true love!”

 A look of pure fury crossed Rumple’s features and she felt herself recoil in spite of herself.

“You’ve been working with Regina this whole time, haven’t you?” he accused, pacing across the bedroom floor. “I’ve been so stupid! This has been your plan from the start!”

“What are you talking about?” Belle cried.

“That baby isn’t even mine, is it?” he continued, his eyes going manic as he gestured at the bassinet. “I don’t remember anything about her conception. You saw to that.”

“Rumple, that’s insane. I don’t remember either.”

“Lies!” he screamed, raking a hand through his tangled hair. Rowan let out a hearty wail, the yelling rousing her from her sleep.

“Your curse,” Belle tried to go on, struggling to climb out of the bed on the other side to check on her daughter. “It was breaking.” What further proof did he need of her love?

“Shut up!” he yelled, rounding on her.

“That means it’s true love!” she insisted.

“Shut the hell up!” his hands clenched at his sides as though he was physically restraining himself from grabbing her.

“Why won’t you believe me?”

“Because no one – _no one_ – could ever love me!”

Belle stumbled back at his words. He really couldn’t believe that someone would want him. Rumple just stood there staring daggers at her, his chest heaving.

“But I love you,” she whispered.

“No,” Rumple growled, his voice dangerously low. “You don’t.”

With that he turned on his heel, slamming the door behind him as he went.

Belle collapsed against the bed, pulling the bassinet and her crying baby toward her. She had to see to Rowan. She came first. Before her aching body and certainly before her aching heart.

* * *

_Present Day..._

Belle gasped as she pulled away from the dreamcatcher, the memories rushing through her mind and causing her to slump woozily. Rumple reached out a hand to steady her, but withdrew it just as quickly. He knew he would be the last person she wanted touching her. After a moment, she composed herself, sitting forward on the bed once again.

"I remember her birth," she said wonderingly. "I remember it all. She's mine, Rumple. I knew it, but now I remember it."

He nodded. Rowan was definitely their child. Both of their child, though he'd denied the fact in their memories. Belle was silent for a long moment, reliving things that had happened thirty years ago. He waited with bated breath for the moment she would start screaming at him. 

"Well, that went about as well as could be expected," Belle said wryly, looking up at him with an arched eyebrow. 

Rumple stared at her as though she'd just suggested they invite Regina over to babysit. 

"What?"

Belle shrugged. "Our first kiss in this timeline was just as disastrous as our real one."

"You'd just gone through childbirth," Rumple pointed out, standing from the bed. "You were hurt and tired and I screamed at you. I rejected your love outright. I rejected Rowan."

Belle shrugged again. "Obviously something happened to change your mind." 

"Yes," Rumple agreed. "Your death." 

Now it was Belle's turn to look confused. 

"I was cruel to you, Belle," he continued. "I kept you locked in that room for days. I refused to see our child. I cursed your name."

"But you didn't throw me out," she pointed out. "You didn't rip Rowan from my arms. Why did you say that you did?"

"Because I may as well have!" he shouted. "There's more to the story."

Belle stiffened her spine, her blue eyes boring into his. 

"Then show me."  


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle's memories of the altered timeline are revealed.

Rumplestiltskin charged down the corridors of the Dark Castle, the sound of Rowan’s cries chasing him away. She wasn’t his child. Belle didn’t love him. It was all a twisted plot, born from Regina’s equally twisted mind. She wanted to cripple him, take away his power, and leave his heart in shreds. But she wouldn’t win. He needed his magic to find his son, a child of equally dubious paternity but one he loved as his own all the same.

With a wave of his hand, he locked the door to his bedroom ensuring Belle wouldn’t leave its confines. He had enough presence of mind to know he couldn’t face her right now. No matter what she had done, what scheme she’d been a party to, he didn’t want to hurt her. And he knew better than to trust his temper at a moment like this.

No, it was better if she stayed away from him. And he needed to stay away from her.

It was that thought that ruled him for the next three days. He sent food up to Belle’s room, he didn’t want to starve the girl. He would occasionally hear the cry of the newborn babe echoing down the hall. She didn’t call out for him, which he assumed she would do if she were truly desperate. And he stewed.

He had come so close to having what he’d always wanted: a family. If only Belle hadn’t tried to trick him. If only she hadn’t lied to him. The hot flaring temper he’d felt at her first deception had cooled in the intervening days and he could view his feelings with more clarity. No matter what Belle’s true feelings for him, he had not been faking his love for her. He loved her, even still. He wished more than anything that her child was his. He wanted to go to her, to apologize, to prostrate himself at her feet in the hopes that they could go back to the moment before she had kissed him, the moment she had agreed to be his wife.

But no time travel spell existed. There was nothing he could do but live with the choices he had made. And Belle had the power to destroy him, a power he could not keep so near to him.

She had to go.

His decision made, he found his way back to the bedroom, throwing open the door without so much as a courtesy knock.

Belle startled at his sudden entrance, but otherwise gave no sign of fear. Against his better judgment, his eyes found her, his heart giving a painful thump in his chest at the sight.

“What are you going to do to me?” she asked, looking so small bundled up in the window seat of the room, Rowan clasped to her chest. “Throw me out days after giving birth?”

“No,” Rumple replied coldly. He would not allow himself to notice how pale she was, how drawn. He could not have sympathy for this woman. She had tricked him, deceived him. He’d thought, for one glimmering moment, that perhaps she loved him. But it had all been a lie. She’d been working with Regina all this time.

“Then what?” Belle asked, her voice sounding slightly hopeful.

“I’m leaving,” he continued coldly, the words unexpected on his tongue. But he couldn’t just throw out a woman who’d had a child only days before. He couldn’t be that cruel to her. “I have errands to run, deals to see to. If you’re still here when I return, well, that’s on you.”

“You want me to leave,” the words were a statement, not a question, her voice flat and emotionless. She clung tighter to her daughter but showed no other outward sign that his words had affected her. “So you are throwing me out after all.”

“No, dearie,” he sneered. “I’m not quite as cruel as you. I’m just simply saying that if you so choose, you’re free to go. I won’t be coming back here any time soon so it matters not if you stay or leave. Either way, our deal is over. I don’t want you anymore.”

She flinched at that, his words cutting through her. But Belle would not be cowed. She straightened up, standing from the window seat and depositing Rowan back in her bassinet.

“You don’t mean that,” she said, stepping around the bed and coming to stand in front of him. She stared up at him, her eyes hard and for a split second Rumplestiltskin felt the weight of what he was doing, how truly lost he would be without her. But he pushed the feeling away and returned her glare.

“Then why would I say it?”

“Because you’re a coward,” she spat, having no idea how that word could cut him. “And no matter how thick you make your skin that doesn’t change. We could have been happy if you’d only just believe in my love…”

“No,” he growled out, cutting across her. “Leave, stay, do whatever you want with your little bastard. But know that you didn’t get the best of me, dearie.”

Belle bit her lip, tears pooling in her splendid eyes.

“You’re so afraid,” she said with a pitying shake of her head. “I’ve never known anyone with so much fear.”

Rumple raised an eyebrow at her, fixing the haughtiest look in his arsenal on his face.

“It’s not fear,” he lied. “I just got everything I wanted out of you.”

Belle swallowed hard, a tear escaping and trickling over her smooth cheek. She turned away from him and crossed the room back to her window.

“Goodbye then, Rumplestiltskin,” she said, her voice surprisingly calm. “But know that you’re not punishing me so much as you’re punishing yourself. I pity you that you’ll never know your own child.”

“I already have a child,” he growled back. “And it’s certainly not her.”

Before Belle could even question him, Rumplestiltskin turned on his heel and left the room, slamming the door shut behind him.

* * *

Belle had barely slept since Rowan’s birth. Her daughter needed to be fed on an almost hourly basis, keeping her up half the night. But even if she hadn’t been on a newborn’s schedule Belle wouldn’t have found sleep.

Everything had been destroyed once again. But while things still seemed salvageable after the incident with Gaston, she had no such hope for things now.

Rumple was too broken, too hardened. He truly believed that no one could love him, let his own self-loathing blind him to the fact that Rowan was his child. She stared down at the sleeping infant’s face, already seeing traces of her father in her. He’d done the paternity test himself when they first realized she was pregnant. If the idiot would only just open his eyes he’d find the truth staring him in the face.

She should hate him for the things he’d said. But she knew they were nothing more than lies. He was trying to hurt her, trying to push her away because of his own fear. If she didn’t know him so well she may have bought the act. But his mask was paper thin to her now. She knew the real man, had seen him time and again, had seen the soft brown eyes of the true Rumple when she’d kissed him.

But now Belle was faced with a choice. And for the first time, she wasn’t making a decision just for herself.

She stroked a finger across Rowan’s downy cheek, the baby sniffling in her sleep. Her heart was so filled with love for the child in her arms, and no matter how much she loved Rumple, Rowan had to come first.

If it had just been Belle, she’d have stayed, forced Rumple to hear her out and fought for her place in his life. But she couldn’t keep a child in such a volatile situation. Rumple refused to see Rowan as his child and she had seen first hand what his temper could do. She had to protect her daughter.

So that’s how she found herself packing up her meager belongings. She waited a few days after Rumple departed the castle, allowing herself time to heal. Once her bleeding had started to taper off and the soreness was more manageable, she gathered together a change of clothes, a few blankets and diapers from the nursery Rumple had made her weeks ago, as much food from the kitchens as she could carry, and strapped Rowan to her chest.

She wasn’t sure where she would go. She couldn’t go back to her father, not after what had happened with Gaston. Her father thought her bewitched and if she appeared on his doorstep with Rumple’s child, she wasn’t sure what he would do.

She had no home any longer. The thought struck Belle as she adjusted the sleeping baby against her breast, making sure she was bound tightly like she’d seen the peasant women do in the marketplace when she was a child. For a moment, it all became overwhelming and she let the tears fall, let herself mourn for the life she had lost. Then she steeled herself and headed out the front doors of the castle. She gave one last lingering look over her shoulder wondering if she’d ever see the place again. Perhaps one day Rumple might come to his senses and realize just how badly he’d ruined things. But they were both stubborn and she wouldn’t hold her breath.

Belle couldn’t travel very quickly with her still healing body and she needed to stop frequently to nurse the baby. The closest village knew her by sight as the Dark One’s maid, though she hadn’t ventured into town in months. They might be frightened enough of Rumplestiltskin that they’d offer aid to anyone associated with him. Or they might think that she was running from his castle and turn her away lest they attract the Dark One’s ire.

No, her best bet was to travel as far away as possible and try to set up some sort of life for herself where no one had ever seen her before. Her accent would give her away as being from the Marchlands. She could easily say she was a widow. Gods knew there were plenty enough of those from her home country given the ogre wars that had plagued their part of the world for years. Of course, Rumplestiltskin had ended the wars months before her child was even conceived.

Three days of walking led her to the next nearest village, one she’d passed through once before on her journey with Rumple to find the thief, Robin Hood. She’d stubbornly refused to take any gold from Rumple’s coffers even though he had more than he could spend even in his immortal lifetime. Something in her had rebelled at the idea of taking anything of his, save what she absolutely needed for her child. She was regretting that impulse after two nights spent huddled in makeshift shelters made from tree branches. It was early winter and the mountain air was frigid at night. She hadn’t adequately prepared for this, striking out while her emotions were still high. If she’d given herself time to think things through she’d have taken some gold, enough to spend a few nights in an inn at least. She’d spent the nights barely sleeping, wrapping every spare bit of clothing around Rowan to keep her warm and shivering until she barely felt the cold any longer.

By the time she made it to the village, she had a hacking cough, her chest rattling with every breath. Rowan’s little nose was running and she was sure she’d made her baby sick. She’d proven to be a terrible mother and a simpleton to boot. She should have just stayed put at the Dark Castle. Rumple didn’t seem intent on coming back and at least the place was warm with plenty of food.

She tried to soothe her crying daughter, holding her close and wrapping her cloak around her, but the baby was inconsolable. Something hard took root in Belle’s chest, a simmering resentment replacing the heartache she’d felt since Rumple had rejected her kiss of true love. He’d as good as thrown her out with a newborn in the middle of winter. Now he was off dealing and wheeling, probably somewhere warm and exotic, far away from the dirty little village with its muddy lanes and sagging buildings.

She hadn’t stopped since early that morning, eager not to spend another night in the elements, and she could feel that her undergarments were sodden with blood, her breasts warm and heavy, aching with the need to feed Rowan. She was sore and cold and exhausted and there was no end in sight.

She found shelter on the outskirts of the village, a run down barn with one pitiful looking nag in residence. She just blinked at Belle balefully when she snuck in, plopping down in a pile of straw and unbinding Rowan from her chest. She brought the little girl to her breast, the baby suckling eagerly as Belle leaned her head back against the rough hewn wall of the barn that at least gave her shelter from the wind.

She wasn’t sure how much longer this could continue. She’d have to find a job, that much was certain. She had experience as a housemaid now. That was one thing she could thank Rumplestiltskin for. Otherwise she was woefully unprepared for a life on her own. She’d lived a fairly privileged life in her father’s castle. That had changed in later years, once the ogres had started to advance. The castle was crumbling, the screams of men returning from the front echoing from the courtyard outside. Belle had stepped up as best she could, sitting in on her father’s council, tending to the wounded, sending for Rumplestiltskin in the end when all hope had been lost.

She had saved her people, and Belle could never regret that. Rumple had released her from their deal, but kept up his end of the bargain. The ogres wouldn’t plague her father’s kingdom again. Now she only had herself and Rowan to worry about.

Exhaustion started to overcome her, her stiff muscles relaxing in the relative warmth of the barn. She was on the edge of sleep, ready to fall at any moment when there was a scuffle from the open barn doors, like hooves squelching in mud. Belle’s head snapped up, suddenly alert.

“Well, well, well,” came a sickeningly familiar voice from behind her. “So you finally escaped the beast?”

Belle leapt to her feet, clasping Rowan tighter to her chest. Regina was looking down on her regally from atop a coal black stallion, her dark eyes burning as she took in Belle’s disheveled appearance and the tiny bundle in her arms.

“You should have come to me, my dear,” Regina said coldly. “I offered you aid and you refused. Now look where you are. I barely even recognize you. I knew that imp’s _interest_ would only last so long.”

“Leave me alone,” Belle spat, the effect of her words dampened by the chattering of her teeth.

“Oh you poor child,” Regina said with a pitying shake of her head that didn’t reach her cold and calculating eyes. “You need my help. And luckily for you, I’m in a charitable mood.”

Regina made a sweeping gesture with her hand and all of a sudden the world was falling out from under her, magic swirling around her like a storm of purple mist. She clutched even tighter to Rowan, determined that nothing would rip her child away from her. Just when Belle thought she wouldn’t be able to go another second without drawing a breath, her feet touched down on something solid, sending a jolt through her entire body.

Rowan let out a wail in her arms, and Belle bounced the baby up and down murmuring soothing words against her ear.

Now isn’t this better?” came Regina’s voice again and Belle spun around to see the woman seated behind a large dressing table. Gone was the imposing riding habit she’d worn earlier, replaced by a skintight velvet blue dress, her long dark hair piled up on her head in an elaborate bun. Belle had the sinking suspicion she was seeing the Queen’s version of lounge wear.

“Where are we?” she asked, willing her voice not to waver. She was standing in a large room with black marble floors and vaulted ceilings. There were arched windows along the length of one side of the room showing the darkening skies outside. There was a roaring fire in the large black stone fireplace on the far end of the room, bathing the entire space in heat and light, reflecting off the gleaming marble making the stones seem alive. It was as though the whole castle was carved from molten stone, reaching up like a volcano into the night sky.

“My castle,” Regina said, waving a hand around magnanimously, a wide smile on her blood red lips. “You can’t tell me you’d rather spend the night in a barn.”

Belle couldn’t deny she was warmer already, the tightness in her chest from the cold air dissipating in the warmth of the castle. But she’d rather face the elements than the woman sitting in front of her.

“Of course I would,” she spat back.

The smile slipped from Regina’s face as she cast a glance down at the baby in Belle’s arms.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she countered. “You’d freeze to death and so would the child. And neither of you are worth anything to me dead.”

“What do you want from me?” Belle demanded. “What else could you possibly take?”

Regina clapped her hands together in an expression of delight.

“Oh so you did try True Love’s kiss!” she exclaimed. “I take it it didn’t work.”

Belle stayed silent, casting her eyes down so Regina wouldn’t see the pain that flashed across them at her words.

“Or perhaps it did,” Regina continued, her face astonished. “He threw you out because you could destroy him.”

Belle swallowed thickly, Regina’s words lancing through her chest. Only Rumple and Regina would see True Love as destruction, something to be avoided. What was it about magic that twisted people so? Had Regina always been like this? She remembered the look the Queen had given her so many weeks ago in the garden of the Dark Castle when she’d insinuated Regina knew nothing of love. What had happened to the pair of them that they’d hardened themselves to love?

“No,” Belle replied. No matter how angry she was at Rumple, he hadn’t truly cast her out. She could have stayed, alone and miserable in his castle. But at the time the harsh world outside had seemed infinitely kinder. “I left of my own accord.”

Regina raised an eyebrow. “That was either very brave or very foolish,” she clucked. “I’m sure you were protected in the confines of his castle, but out in the cold world all alone? The Dark One’s child would be a lovely bit of leverage for anyone hoping to use him to their own ends.”

Belle tightened her arms around Rowan, instinctively taking a step back from Regina.

“You’re very lucky I found you,” the Queen continued, turning to look at her reflection in the mirror as though Belle were no more than an afterthought. “Things could have turned out so much worse.”

Belle had the sinking suspicion her lot in life could not possibly be any worse, but she kept her mouth shut, casting her eyes around for any possible avenue of escape. They seemed to be alone at the moment, but Belle had no doubt there were guards posted throughout the castle. And even if there weren’t, Regina had magic. How far could a sick woman carrying a baby get before magic caught up with her?

She was at the mercy of the Evil Queen.

* * *

It had taken Rumplestiltskin one week to realize he was an ass.

Actually it had taken him mere moments for that realization. But it had taken a full week for him to do something about it. 

He hadn’t spent his week making deals as he’d told Belle. No, he’d gone back to the source of his misery. The wretched little village he’d lived in with Milah so many years ago. He’d parked himself in a tavern not unlike the one his former wife had spent so much of their marriage in and he’d ordered a drink.

No one had dared to bother him, and Rumplestiltskin had spent the intervening days trying, and failing, to see if a Dark One could drink himself into a stupor. At best the liquor burned his throat, turned his stomach and numbed his thoughts ever so slightly. But it wasn’t enough to forget Belle’s cornflower blue eyes, the sadness in them when he’d told her he didn’t want her anymore, the sight of her huddled in the window with their child.

He wasn’t sure when he’d taken to thinking of Rowan as _theirs_. She might well not be. He’d certainly been convinced of the fact a week ago. But at some point he realized it didn’t matter. He loved Belle and he’d love her child. True Love’s kiss couldn’t have worked if Belle didn’t have true feelings for him. No matter how powerful Regina thought she was, she couldn’t have done that. Only the most powerful magic in the world could break his curse. Belle couldn’t have lied.

He’d once made a promise to do nothing else, love nothing else until he’d found his son. But now he had a daughter as well and he couldn’t forsake one child for another. For now, Bae would have to wait. Someone else needed him at the moment.

“Baelfire, forgive me,” he muttered to himself before finishing the contents of his drink. Then with a wave of his hand he was gone.

“Belle!” he called, throwing open the Dark Castle doors and practically sprinting into the entrance hall. “Belle?”

He ran up the stairs to his bedroom where Belle had been convalescing, but the room was empty. The sheets were fresh, the bed made. The books that had been stacked at the edge of the bed were gone. Rowan’s bassinet was still standing to one corner of the room, so he didn’t think she’d moved back to her own quarters.

He tried the library next, but it was similarly empty. All the books were shelved, nothing out of place. It was the tidiest he’d seen the room since he’d given it to Belle over a year ago.

His heart beginning to beat harder in his chest, he finally checked the nursery. It was just as they’d left it, the circular crib in the middle of the room that he’d carved by hand standing empty. He vaguely wondered if it had ever found its intended use, if Rowan had ever slept in it. The wardrobe in the corner was standing open and Rumple’s heart skipped a beat. A quick peek in showed diapers, blankets and baby clothes all missing. 

She was gone.

Rumple fell to his knees in the center of the unused nursery, his heart sinking into his stomach. He didn’t know what he had expected. He had all but told Belle to leave, why was he surprised that she’d done it?

Part of him had held out hope, despite everything life had shown him to the contrary, that she would still be there. That his stubborn, willful Belle wouldn’t give up on him. But he’d finally pushed her too far.

He dragged himself back downstairs to the great hall, slumping into his chair and dropping his head into his hands. It was only then he noticed it. A piece of paper in the center of the table, kept in place by one of his teacups.

Rumple leapt up from the chair, snatching the paper and sending the cup crashing to the floor unheeded. 

_Rumplestiltskin,_

_After you left, I considered your words and realized you were right. There is no future for us. I had fooled myself into thinking that my feelings for you were love when I now know that it was nothing more than a silly infatuation. I thought I could love you, but how can you love someone who will not let himself be loved?_

_I have taken my child and myself far away from you and your influence. I pray you do not look for us._

_I thank you for my freedom,_

_Belle_

He reread her words three times before the words became illegible. It was only then he realized his tears were falling on the paper, smearing the ink until it was nothing more than black smudges on a cream surface, the message lost forever.

He crumpled the soggy paper in one hand, casting it to the ground to join the remnants of the cup he’d shattered.

In the end, it was impossible to heed Belle’s request. He had to look for her, just to know she and Rowan were safe. He promised himself that once he saw them, he would leave her alone for good. If she was in danger, he would intervene, and she could yell at him until she was red in the face.

Up in his tower, he enchanted a mirror. Using a piece of Belle’s hair that had been caught in the hairbrush in her bedroom and the blanket from Rowan’s bassinet, he fashioned the mirror to show him their location.

A swirl of magic disrupted his reflection in the mirror as he gazed into it, rippling across the smooth surface in waves. But when it should have cleared and shown him an image of Belle, wherever she was, it continued to ripple, the magic growing darker until the glass surface shattered.

Rumple threw the useless thing down on his desk, summoning another mirror to hand and trying again, only for the same result.

Wherever Belle was, he couldn’t find her.

It took another month before Rumplestiltskin had to admit defeat. He’d searched high and low, the world over, but could find neither hide nor hair of Belle or their child. She wasn’t in Avonlea that he could tell. She wasn’t in any of the surrounding villages. No one had seen a woman of her description with a small child anywhere.

Perhaps Belle didn’t want to be found. Perhaps she’d devised a way to hide his child from him. The thought curdled Rumple’s stomach. He’d lost one child through his own selfish stupidity and now it had happened again.

He returned home to his castle, his shoulders feeling heavy, a tension settling in his neck that would not go away. He had to regroup, consider other options for finding them.

He stormed in to the great hall only to feel his hackles rise. Regina was seated on the long dining table, a cup of tea in one hand and a vicious smile on her face.

“Rumple!” she exclaimed. “I was wondering if you’d ever be back. Where have you been?”

“That’s no concern of yours, dearie,” he growled, striding by her without so much as a glance and settling himself at his spinning wheel.

“You know, you really should get a maid,” Regina tossed out the words as though they were nothing. Rumple tensed all over. “I had to summon my own tea.”

Rumplestiltskin turned slowly, leveling Regina with his glare.

“What did you do?” he demanded, his voice low and menacing.

Regina just raised her eyebrows, her eyes wide and innocent. “With your old maid?” she asked. “The poor little thing you defiled? Relax, Rumple. I haven’t seen the girl in months. You can rest assured I had nothing to do with that little tragedy.”

Her words prickled along his spine, a heavy leaden feeling settling in his stomach.

“What tragedy?” he asked, his breath catching in his chest.

“You mean you don’t know?” Regina said surprised, her hand fluttering to her chest. “Well she returned home of course. But that fiancée of hers had gone missing. And showing back up on her father’s doorstep with a bastard child after spending the last year in your service? Well, that didn’t go over too well with her dear papa. He shunned her. Cut her off, shut her out.”

“Where is she?” Rumple demanded, standing and crossing the room to Regina.

The queen eyed him up and down, taking another sip of her tea before answering.

“He was cruel to her,” she said with a smirk. “Locked her in a tower, sent in clerics to cleanse her soul of your taint. After a while, she threw herself off the tower. She died.”

It’s not true. He can feel it in his bones. He would know if Belle were dead, he would feel it. But the magic mirrors that failed to conjure a picture of her, his fruitless pursuit of her over the past month they only point to one thing.

“You’re lying,” he growled out anyway, unwilling to let Regina be right.

“Am I?” she returned.

“Yes,” he said, more assuredly than he feels. “What would they have done with the child? Surely Sir Maurice would not be so callous to his own granddaughter.”

“Ah,” Regina said with a smile. “From what I’ve heard he was too afraid to dispose of the girl like he wanted to. He didn’t want to insult the Dark One by drowning his bastard like an unwanted runt.”

Rumple flinched at the imagery, willing himself to stay calm in front of Regina.

“She was given to some peasant or another,” Regina continued. “A woodcutter and his wife living near the Endless Forest. I’m sure they’d offer little resistance if you wanted to claim her.”

“We’re done here,” he said to Regina, already planning his trip to the Endless Forest. If Rowan was there, it would give credence to Regina’s story.

“Fine,” she replied, hopping off her seat on the table that would so recently have been reserved for Belle. “I have other calls to make.”

She swept out of the great hall and Rumple transported himself away.

* * *

Belle had been ensconced in a tower in Regina’s castle for two weeks before the woman herself paid her a visit.

It was a wide, circular room with one uncomfortable pallet bolted into the wall. A lone window was set high up in the wall, just enough that Belle could see the sky but nothing else of the world outside. Regina had claimed that Belle and her child were the ace up her sleeve should Rumplestiltskin ever prove himself a nuisance to her. After all her hopes for grand adventure, this is what it had brought her to. She was nothing more than a bargaining chip between people far more powerful than herself. She had no idea how long she would be kept in this tower, and more importantly how long Rowan would be.

If nothing else, at least they were shielded from the elements. The tower was warmer than it was outside. And Rowan had her mother, but what kind of life would a child have growing up in the confines of one small room? Would her daughter ever see the outside world?

Belle had started passing the time by telling Rowan stories. She told her about the rocky cliffs overlooking the sea in Avonlea, the smell of the breeze and chill in the air. She told her about the colorful boats that would come in to the harbor bearing fabrics and spices and tales from far off places. She told her about the pony she’d had as a child, Chestnut, and how she’d ride him through the sun dappled fields behind the castle. She told her about her father and his mountain home where the snow never melted. She described the glint of the sunlight off the straw in Rumple’s hands and the way it turned seamlessly into gold right before your eyes as though it were nothing more than a trick of the light.

And with every story she told, she stowed away a little seed of hope that one day she’d see such things again and share them with her daughter.

And then Regina came.

“I need the child,” she announced, striding into the tower room in a swirl of black skirts.

Belle grabbed Rowan from the place she was sleeping on the pallet and turned away from Regina, shielding the baby with her body.

“No,” she said fiercely, clutching Rowan so tightly that the baby cried out. “You can’t take her.”

The look Regina gave her was almost bored. “I assure you I can,” she said, moving forward, arms outstretched.

An almost feral sound was ripped from Belle’s throat as she held her child in one arm and reached out with the other to strike at Regina. Her nails raked against the queen’s face, Regina stumbling back in shock. She reached up to touch the scratches, her fingers coming away bloody.

“Well the cat has claws,” Regina sneered. “But I’m afraid they’re of little use.”

Belle raised her hand to strike again when, with a sudden burst of magic, there was a manacle binding her wrist, shackling her to the wall. She let out a screech, bending her body around Rowan as best she could but Regina grabbed the child from her.

“No!” Belle cried out, reaching for her baby as another manacle appeared on her other arm restricting her movement. “You can’t take her from me!”

Regina just cradled the crying Rowan in her arms, gazing down at the baby with manic eyes.

“Don’t worry,” she said calmly. “All of this will be over soon.”

“What are you going to do to her?” Belle sobbed, wrenching her arms against the chains that bound them to no avail. “Please, please give her back to me.”

“I’m doing her a favor,” Regina said calmly. “What kind of life could a child of the Dark One possibly hope to have?”

She turned carrying the baby out of the cell, the door clunking closed behind her on heavy hinges as Belle wailed until her throat was raw and her voice gave out.

After that, she found herself giving up. She felt hollow, empty. Everything had been taken from her and she had nothing left to give. She didn’t even look at the food that was slid to her through a grate in her door. She just laid on the hard pallet against the wall and waited. She wasn’t sure what she was waiting for. Perhaps the embrace of death, so she could be reunited with her child. Maybe she waited for her father, someone, anyone to come charging in and free her. She didn’t wait for Rumple. He had forsaken her.

She didn’t track the passage of time, had no idea how long she’d been waiting. Sometimes she would scream out Rumple’s name in her sleep, cursing him and calling for him by turns. She cried for her child until there were no tears left in her. She was no longer Belle of the Marchlands. She was no longer a mother. She was no longer the daughter of Sir Maurice or the maid of the Dark One or even the consort of Rumplestiltskin. She was nothing.

There was smoke swirling outside the one high window of her cell, a purple mist growing ever closer. Belle couldn’t find it in herself to be afraid. She watched as it drew nearer, enveloped her, and welcomed the calming embrace of oblivion.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumple and Belle deal with the fallout of Belle regaining her memories of the new timeline. In the past, Belle meets Rowan for the first time when the Dark Curse is broken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end! I started this story during the hiatus between season 3 and 4, and I'm finally finishing it right before season 6. Gosh I'm so good at updating in a timely manner! Thanks to everyone who read this story and the original fic. These two stories were kind of my break in to the Rumbelle fandom and your comments and encouragement are why I'm still writing silly Rumbelle fics years later.

Belle pulled back, her heart thumping in her chest and her breath coming out in short gasps.

So that was the truth of it. Rumple had rejected her, refused to acknowledge their child, and she’d been left all alone, wishing for death.

In truth, it wasn’t that different than their original history. Only the added factor of Rowan made things infinitely worse. She’d spent months, perhaps even years in Regina’s tower thinking her child was dead. And she’d actually been with Rumple the whole time.

“Regina gave you Rowan,” she stated, her mind still coming to terms with the swirling batch of memories freshly deposited in her head. “During the curse. Why?” 

“I asked her to,” he replied miserably. “She visited me in my cell, made a deal in exchange for how to cast the dark curse. I asked for a good life, and one for my child.”

Belle just shook her head. “I don’t understand. You wouldn’t even look at Rowan. What made you realize she was yours?” 

“I always knew she was,” he said. “Once I’d had a moment to think things through, let the anger pass, I knew you weren’t lying. I came back to see you but you were already gone. And…”

“You found my letter,” she finished lamely. “You didn’t look for me because you thought I stayed away on purpose.”

“No,” Rumple disagreed. “I found your letter and it broke my heart, but I knew it was all my fault. I couldn’t blame you. But I had to know if you were safe. I searched for you everywhere but I couldn’t find you. Then Regina stopped by and told me a modified version of her original tale. Given our history with Gaston it was easy to imagine. She told me Rowan had been given to peasants and when I went to their cottage, there she was. I had no choice but to believe her account of what happened to you after that.”

Belle just shook her head, trying to piece together what had become of her daughter after her last memory of her being ripped from her arms.

“And when you were in Snow White’s prison,” she said. “Where was Rowan?”

“Mrs. Potts,” he replied. “She became a nanny of sorts.”

The memories were so fresh, her heartache, her anger with Rumple, her despair. It was all too much and suddenly Rumplestiltskin seemed to be far too close.

“I have to leave,” she said suddenly, standing up from her place on the bed for the first time since they began this memory retrieving endeavor.

Rumple’s heart stopped beating, he was absolutely sure of it. This was the end. She was leaving him for good.

Belle must have noticed the look that crossed his face because she briefly ran a hand through his hair.

“Not forever,” she said calmly. “But I have a lot to think about. My counterpart in this timeline, she hadn’t forgiven you, not truly. She married you because of Rowan and now I have those memories, those thoughts in my head. I love you, Rumple. But I need time.”

He nodded, accepting the truth of her words.

“I love you,” she repeated. “Even in this timeline, I still loved you. But this Belle,” she shook her head, the memories still streaming in, the feelings of resentment she had harbored in her heart butting against the much more forgiving Belle she currently was. “She’s so much more broken than I ever was. I just need to reconcile what I’m feeling right now.”

She bent to brush a kiss against Rumple’s cheek. “Thank you for showing me the truth,” she said. “I know it wasn’t easy for you.”

Reliving their past history had taken up a large chunk of the night and it was almost dawn. Once Rowan awoke a few hours later, Belle packed up her things and the two of them headed off to Granny’s Bed and Breakfast. Rowan was confused, asking why they weren’t staying at home, but Belle assured her it was an adventure, a girls’ weekend for just the two of them and Papa would still be there when they returned.

Rumple watched them go with his heart in his throat. No matter what Belle said to the contrary, he couldn’t believe that they would ever be back.

* * *

 

_2 Years Prior…the day the Dark Curse was broken_

She wasn’t sure how long she’d been here. She had a vague sense that once upon a time she’d been someone real, someone with family and friends and a life. But if that sense was even true it was so long ago as to no longer matter. All she had were the four cinderblock walls that surrounded her, the metal door with the little slot for her food, the stone faced nurse who delivered her meds, and the haze that would consume her after she swallowed the little pills in the plastic cup.

Some days she wondered if she was a real person at all. No one visited her but the nurse and the occasional orderly who would drag her to the showers once a week and douse her in freezing cold water before depositing her back on her hard bed to shiver until she fell asleep. She didn’t even have a name. Not that she needed one. No one spoke directly to her, just about her. 

“No one has been to visit her.”

“She refused her meds, better hide them in her food.”

“She smells. Take her to the showers.”

She wished one of them would mention a name. She would feel so much more real if she just knew that much about herself.

One day, she was sitting alone in her cell, as she did every day, silently counting the cracks in the far wall across from her. There were 37, she knew. It was one of the only things to do in her cell and she counted them countless times before. The grating sound of her metal door opening cut through the otherwise oppressive silence, and she looked up. It wasn’t mealtime or meds time or bath time, so what could someone be doing there?

A man stood framed in the light streaming in from the hallway dressed as an orderly though he wasn’t one she’d seen before. He was tall with dark hair. She supposed he was handsome, but she’d never given much thought to what people looked like. She wasn’t even sure what _she_ looked like beyond the scraggly brown hair she could see falling about her shoulders.

“Come with me,” he said, holding a hand out to her and helping her up.

“Who are you?” she said suspiciously, her voice hoarse from disuse.

“My name is Jefferson,” he said quickly. “I need you to do something for me. Find a man named Mr. Gold. Tell him where you’ve been. Tell him Regina locked you up.” 

She just stared at him, glancing to the open door behind him and back.

“Mr. Gold will protect you,” Jefferson said. “But you need to tell him Regina locked you up.”

The words meant nothing to her. She didn’t know anyone named Mr. Gold or Regina. She didn’t know anyone period. But the door to her cell was open and she could sense the freedom it offered. She nodded her understanding.

Jefferson wrapped a coat around her shoulders, pushing her out the door, and she walked. She walked past the desk where the stone-faced nurse was slumped unconscious. She walked up through the busy hospital and out the front doors into blinding sunlight that hurt her eyes. She breathed in the cold air, letting it fill her lungs with its freshness. She’d never been out of doors in her memory. She’d never been out of the hospital basement in her memory. The world outside seemed vast and bright, terrifying and exhilarating at the same time. She shuddered, whether with fear or excitement she couldn't be sure.

She walked down the street, conscious of the hospital gown beneath the bulky coat Jefferson had given her. She wrapped the coat tighter around herself, hoping she didn’t stick out too much. She needed to find this Mr. Gold, the man who would protect her, before someone sent her back to the hospital. She didn’t know much, but she knew anywhere had to be better than her cell with its 37 cracks in the wall, bland food and cold showers.

And then it shone like a beacon, a sign in the middle of the street bearing the name emblazoned on her brain. 

She stumbled into the shop, her eyes adjusting to the gloom. There was a man there, Mr. Gold she presumed, who looked at her like she was a ghost, who hugged her so tightly she almost felt like a person. And then he was dragging her along with him to the woods, telling her something important was about to happen. She followed along because he promised to protect her and she had nowhere else to go, but there was something about it that frightened her. Something was about to change, she could feel it in the air, and that something was terrifying.

And then she felt it, an electric current charging through the air, making her hair stand on end. She was Belle, prisoner of the Evil Queen, jilted lover of the Dark One, mother to a murdered child.

She gasped out in the cold air as the memories all hit her at once, staggering in their force. The pain ripped through her, nearly bringing her to her knees.

“Wait,” she cried out as Rumple, for that’s who Mr. Gold was, continued to forge through the underbrush seemingly unbothered by the change in the air. She would recognize him anywhere. She’d only seen his true face fleetingly in the moments after their kiss, but his brown eyes were seared onto her brain. He was here, human and uncursed. She hadn’t been able to free him from it in their world, but he’d seemingly found a way. It didn’t matter now. He’d thrown her out and her child was gone. She’d wanted them to be a family but there was no family without Rowan.

“No, no, we’re very close,” he said, not bothering to turn back to face her. 

“Rumplestiltskin, wait!” she called out again. He froze, his shoulders tensing beneath his suit jacket.

“I know it’s you,” she said. “I’ve seen you look like this before.”

He slowly turned at that, his eyes looking down at her feet rather than meeting her eyes.

“Belle,” he gasped out, his eyes filling with tears.

“I remember,” she said, walking toward him. “I remember I loved you.”

His eyes met hers finally, his heartbreak visible in his eyes.

“I love you,” he swore. “I always have. Belle, I am so sorry for what happened to you. If I had the slightest idea that Regina…”

Her fist swung out, striking against his chest and knocking him back a step. Rumple caught himself with the gold handled cane he was carrying and Belle hated that for a split second she worried she had hurt him. She shouldn’t care. She shouldn’t still love him.

“You threw us away like we were nothing,” she accused. “My daughter died because of you."

She shoved him again, but this time Rumple was ready for her and braced himself against her attack.

"She's gone and it's all your fault!" she screamed, her small fist striking at Rumple's chest again and again. "She's gone! She’s gone and she’s not coming back!”

Her legs finally gave out, the leaves crunching beneath her knees. For 28 years she’d lived in a fog, a haze, not knowing who she was. It was torture, but it was infinitely preferable to the world she lived in now, the world where her daughter was dead. She would give anything to have that ignorance back. Her body was wracked with sobs, decades of loss coming to the fore.

“What are you talking about?” Rumple asked, stooping awkwardly to kneel before her. And Belle realized he didn’t know, would have no reason to know what had become of Rowan. Would he even care about a child he swore wasn’t his? 

“It was Regina,” she rasped out. “She kidnapped me, kept me locked away. Rumple, she took Rowan. She killed her. She killed our daughter.”

The words left her hollow, the ragged sobbing tapering off as she remembered the endless years of pain and heartbreak fading to numbness as she lay in Regina’s tower wishing for death. The wounds were fresh once again, ripped open. She could do nothing but feel her own pain. She wanted Rumple to feel a fraction of her torment.

“No,” Rumple said soothingly, shaking his head. “Oh, no, no, Belle. Rowan is alive. She’s fine.”

Belle’s eyes shot up to meet Rumple’s. Why would he be so cruel as to bait her with false hope? Hadn’t she suffered enough? 

“Don’t lie to me,” she growled, her voice so different than the sweet one Rumple remembered from the Dark Castle.

“I swear it,” he said, placing a hand over his heart. “She’s alive and well. She’s been with me all along.”

Belle’s mouth went dry, relief sweeping over her and making her dizzy. She must have started to slump to the ground because Rumple caught her, holding her shoulders tightly in his strong hands. It was the first time he’d touched her since the day Rowan was born.

“She’s alive,” she repeated.

“Yes, sweetheart,” Rumple said with a nod of his head.

“She’s alive,” she said again. It didn’t seem possible to say anything else. “She’s alive.”

Rumple was looking at her warily, clearly afraid for her sanity. And maybe she had lost her mind. Maybe unending years in the hospital basement had broken her. But none of that mattered because Rowan was alive.

She burst into tears, falling against Rumple’s chest. He lost his tremulous balance, crouched as he was in the leaves, and fell backwards until he was sitting on the forest floor. Belle gripped on to his jacket, soft wool and so different from the hard and unyielding leather he wore in the Enchanted Forest. She buried her face against his neck and sobbed, not caring that she should flinch away from Rumple, the man who had caused so much of her torment. He smelled the same, like earth and magic, and she let it soothe her weary soul, remembering how much she’d loved him.

“I want to see her,” she croaked out finally, once her tears were spent. “I need to see her.”

“Yes, of course,” Rumple agreed, standing with the aid of his cane and pulling Belle up with him. “She’s at home. I’ll take you to her right away.”

In the end, “right away” was bit generous. Rumple had insisted Belle change out of her hospital gown first saying Rowan would be confused enough at the sudden appearance of a mother she had thought was dead. He brought her back to his shop where he had an array of dresses in just her size. Belle tried not to think about the implications of that as she changed quickly in the back room. It was as though he had been waiting for her to return, amassing a wardrobe he thought she’d like. But Regina had told him she was dead. He hadn’t expected to ever see her again, or so he said.

She brushed her hair out for the first time in years, using an antique gilded hairbrush Rumple provided for her. She slipped on a gray shift dress and a pair of heels that also miraculously fit, and figured she was ready as she’d ever be.

When she left the back room, coming to the front of the shop where Rumple was waiting for her, he stood up quickly and stared. Belle pulled at the hem of her dress self-consciously. She’d never worn something quite so short and she felt slightly indecent. Her knowledge of this realm was fleeting, a vague sense of the way of things that was buried under the haze of medication over the past twenty-eight years. She knew the fashions in this world were different than at home, but with so much skin on display she still felt exposed. 

“Is this alright?” she asked, crossing her bare arms against her chest.

Rumple swallowed, his eyes flicking up from her legs to her face.

“You look beautiful,” he said earnestly. “Rowan will be so excited to see you.”

Belle was struck with a sudden thought. The last time she’d seen Rowan she was just a tiny baby. Whenever she had imagined her daughter in Regina’s tower it had been that small little baby with the quickly darkening eyes and snub nose. But she had no real sense of how much time had passed in the interim.

“How old is she?” she asked. 

“Well, that’s a difficult question,” Rumple answered. “We’re all twenty eight years older than we should be. But physically Rowan is almost three.”

“Three?” Belle sniffled. “I haven’t seen her since she was two months old. I missed her first steps and her first word. I missed everything.”

“You’re here now,” he reminded her, resting a hand on her shoulder. “You’re here and you’ll never be separated from her again, I promise you that.”

Belle nodded. She felt nervous. Her daughter didn’t know her at all. She had spent three years without a mother. What if Rowan didn’t like her?

“Belle, I can’t apologize enough for what happened between us,” Rumple began. “I never should have doubted you, sweetheart. I let my fear cloud my judgment and not a day has gone by where I haven’t regretted it. I promised myself if I ever had a second chance, I would do right by you.”

Belle just nodded again, unsure of what to say. It may have been thirty years since Rumple had rejected her and Rowan, but it felt recent. Her heart was still broken and it would take more to mend than just kind words.

“I love you,” he repeated his words from the woods. “I don’t expect you to still feel that way for me, but I want to say it now. I’m sorry I didn’t say it sooner.”

It would be so much easier if she didn’t still feel love for him. It would be easier if she could resent him, hate him. But Belle didn’t think she would ever be able to hate Rumple. She bit her lip. She wasn’t ready to have this conversation.

Rumple must have sensed her discomfort because he motioned her toward the doorway. “Lets go see our daughter, shall we?”

* * *

Rumple’s house was pink. It was a silly thought, but the first one that popped in to Belle’s head as they pulled up in front of the home he’d shared with Rowan for the past twenty-eight years.

Rumple put the car into park, glancing over at Belle apprehensively.

“Are you ready?” he asked. Belle nodded, looking down at her hands. She tried to push away the feeling that her daughter wouldn’t want her, that she’d spent her entire life without her, that she deserved a mother who was whole and healthy not some escaped mental patient who’d given up on her.

All this time Rowan had been alive. Belle felt she should have known, should have had a sixth sense that told her her daughter still drew breath. Instead she’d given up. She’d wallowed in self-pity, lying on the pallet in Regina’s tower. She hadn’t fought, hadn’t tried to get back to her daughter. She’d been weak. Rowan deserved a mother who was strong.

Rumple reached out tentatively to touch her hand and Belle startled. Rumple withdrew his hand quickly.

“I’ve told her all about you,” he said softly. “She loves you already, asks about you constantly.” 

Belle’s eyes flicked up to meet Rumple’s. “What have you told her?” she asked, her words barely more than a whisper.

“That her mother was a beautiful, intelligent woman who was far too good for me,” he said with a self-deprecating smile. “That you loved her very much and would have stayed with her if at all possible. That she looks just like you, just as pretty and perfect.”

“She had your eyes,” Belle cut in, remembering the brown eyes in the tiny face that was more dear to her than any other in the world.

“Still does,” Rumple quipped.

Belle wiped away the tears that she hadn’t even realized were falling, sniffling and nodding her head resolutely.

“I’m ready,” she said with more conviction than she felt. She’d gone thirty years without her daughter. She wouldn’t delay it a moment more.

She followed Rumple up the stairs to his house and was immediately struck with a sense of déjà vu. The house was significantly smaller, lit up with electricity rather than candles and torches, the gentle hum of the heating system keeping the place snug and warm, but it felt like the Dark Castle.

She paused in the doorway, breathing in the scent of mahogany furniture, old books and straw, the same scent that seemed to cling to Rumple’s very form. It felt like home.

“Papa!” a little girl with chestnut ringlets and brown eyes darted into the foyer, sliding against the hardwood floor in her socked feet. A moment later she noticed Belle and she grabbed hold of her father, peeking out from around his trouser leg shyly.

Belle’s breath caught in her chest at the first sight of her daughter. She was more beautiful than she could have ever imagined.

“Rowan,” Rumple said, looking down at the little girl. “There is someone very special I’d like you to meet. This is Belle.”

Rowan looked up at Belle warily, rubbing her nose against Rumple’s suit.

“My mama’s name is Belle,” Rowan said plainly. 

Belle’s heart leapt to her throat. Rumple had told Rowan about her. She exchanged a brief look with him. Rumple just nodded encouragingly.

“Well, baby,” she said, crouching down to the little girl’s level and trying to stifle the tears that threatened to fall. “That’s because I am your mama.”

Rowan looked at Belle appraisingly before turning to Rumple.

“You said mama is an angel,” she accused. 

“I thought she was,” Rumple admitted, his eyes bright with unshed tears. “But she came back to us.”

His eyes met Belle over their daughter’s head. She hadn’t missed his use of the word “us”.

“She looks like an angel,” Rowan said with a decisive nod of her head. Then she reached out and took Belle’s hand. “Do you wanna see my room?”

“I’d love to,” Belle said genuinely, standing up. Rowan dragged her up the stairs to her room, showing her all her stuffed animals and her books. Rumple followed behind them, watching from the doorway so as not to intrude. Eventually Rowan pulled her father in as well insisting that they all have a tea party. Belle snorted at the sight of Rumple folded into a child’s sized chair as Rowan served them imaginary tea. And when Rowan insisted on sitting on Belle's lap for the duration of the tea party, for the first time in decades she felt happy.

* * *

 

By Monday, Belle and Rowan were still checked in to Granny’s Bed and Breakfast. Rumple hadn’t slept since they left; spending the weekend going over every terrible, awful thing he’d ever done to Belle in both timelines.

He summoned his dagger to hand, flipping it over and tracing his name along the blade. Belle still thought she had the real one, but even his proposal had been a lie. If Belle ever came back, he’d swap it out for the fake, let her have the real thing. In all honesty, he wanted her to have it. He clearly couldn’t be trusted with his power and he trusted Belle not to use it unless absolutely necessary. Perhaps she could stop him from making colossal mistakes in the future like rejecting his own child.

He was interrupted by the jangle of keys and the sound of the front door opening. He stood up from his armchair in the living room and walked out into the front hall just in time to see Belle and Rowan come through the door.

“Papa!” cried Rowan, running toward him and slamming into his legs to give him a hug. He gripped on to the doorway to keep from falling over. 

“You’re back,” he gasped unbelievingly. Belle just arched an eyebrow at him, hanging her coat up beside the front door.

“I told you we would be,” she said with a small, tentative smile.

“Ruby painted my nails,” Rowan exclaimed leaning back from Rumple and holding her hand up to him. There was sparkly pink polish on the fingers she wiggled in his direction.

“Beautiful,” he said, scooping Rowan up and hugging her close.

“Mommy let me have pancakes for dinner,” she whispered loudly against his ear.

“Thanks for ratting me out,” Belle said wryly, coming to join them. “Back to eating broccoli now that we’re home.”

Rowan pulled a face. “Yuck!”

“Alright,” Belle chided. “Go wash your hands and we’ll make lunch.”

Rowan slid out of Rumple’s arms, dashing off to the bathroom and leaving her parents alone.

“Well, it seems you two had a fun weekend,” Rumple began, following Belle in to the kitchen. He wasn’t sure where to go from here. Belle was back, but it didn’t mean he was forgiven.

“It was nice to spend some uninterrupted time with her,” Belle agreed. “Especially now.”

Rumple sat at the kitchen island, watching as Belle pulled bread, peanut butter and jelly from the pantry and started assembling Rowan’s sandwich.

“I’m so sorry, Belle,” Rumple said. He felt like he was always apologizing to her and it would never be enough. “There’s three years of her life I can’t give back to you.”

Belle shrugged, licking a blob of jelly off her thumb. “It sucks,” she agreed. “What happened between us in this timeline just sucks. But now at least I have memories of her birth, of the first two months of her life, of the past year and half with her. It’s so much more than I had a few days ago and that’s thanks to you.”

Rumple snorted derisively. “Only because you demanded it,” he said, full of bitterness for himself and himself alone. “I didn’t want you to have to live those memories, Belle. I was going to try to keep the truth from you.”

“I know,” she said, pulling a knife from the cutlery drawer and cutting the crusts off Rowan’s sandwich just the way their daughter liked. “But I believe you when you say you’d thought better of that. You were going to tell me the truth eventually. You always do.”

The guilt burned in his gut as the image of his dagger flitted through his mind.

“Rumple, I don’t want to be the person I was in this timeline,” she said with a shudder. “She was vindictive and so angry. I don’t want that for us. I have her memories, but that doesn’t mean I have to hold on to her resentment.”

“She was what I made her,” Rumple said sadly, looking down at his clasped hands. “Everything that became of that Belle, it was my fault.”

“And Regina’s,” Belle asserted. “And my own. If I hadn’t been so stubborn, if I had stayed put at the castle for just a few days more, none of this would have happened. But I don’t want to play the blame game. I want to move forward.”

Rumple’s eyes met Belle’s again as she placed her hand over his. “I love you,” she said. “And so did the other Belle. It’s why she married you, why she stayed even after everything. The other us, things weren’t perfect, but there was still love there.”

Rumple nodded. “I love you too,” he said, turning his hand so his fingers could interlace with Belle’s. “And I’m happy you came back.”

“Not unhappy?” she asked, shooting him a cheeky grin.

He wasn’t sure what he’d ever done to deserve someone like Belle. In fact he was entirely sure he didn’t deserve her at all. But she was here and she still loved him.

Belle moved away, busying herself slicing up an apple to put on Rowan’s plate alongside her sandwich.

“I still can’t stop thinking about her though,” she said pensively, staring off at nothing across the kitchen.

“Who?” Rumple asked, not following her train of thought.

“The other Belle,” she explained. “She’s not me, not really, not anymore. I just remember that poor girl we were with a week ago and how young and innocent she was, how much she loved the other you, how much she wanted to see the world. She ended up with an even worse lot than I did.” 

Rumple shook his head. “This is why time travel should never be done.”

“I’m thankful to them though,” she continued. “If the other you and me hadn’t screwed up so royally, we wouldn’t have Rowan.”

“There is that,” Rumple agreed.

“I wouldn’t change anything,” she said with a shake of her head. “We have a daughter, Rumple. And I hate that I missed so much of her life, but we’re together now, all of us. She’s our baby.” 

Rumple had to smile at that. Belle came around the island, wrapping her arms around Rumple’s neck.

“You know, on second thought, there is one thing I would change,” Belle said. At Rumple’s questioning look she continued. “We still can’t remember Rowan’s conception.” 

Rumple let out a chuckle, pulling Belle on to his lap and burying his head against her neck.

“I could give you a demonstration of what probably happened,” he growled against her ear, his hand trailing down her spine until it settled on her backside. “I’m sure we have enough imagination to fill in the blanks.”

Belle snickered, pulling back to cup his face between her hands. “Maybe later tonight,” she grinned, leaning in to kiss him sweetly. "But you'll have to break out the leather pants.

Rumple snorted, pulling Belle flush against his chest and kissing her hard.

“You guys are being gross again,” Rowan announced from the entrance to the kitchen, shuffling in.

Belle pulled back, resting her forehead against Rumple’s for a second. 

“Wouldn’t change a thing,” she said again. Then she stood up, going to help Rowan into her booster chair and setting her plate in front of her.

Rowan launched into a recitation of a new My Little Pony episode she’d seen, her parents providing a rapt audience. Belle’s hand found Rumple’s under the table and gave him a reassuring squeeze. 

Despite everything, all was as it should be. Perhaps things would never be perfect between them, but right now it felt pretty damn close.


End file.
